Dust and Shadows
by RainaWrites
Summary: It's Carmen Riker's first away mission on a supposedly abandoned planet. As she tries to fit in amongst her new crew, things go from bad to worse. *Next episode in the series of events that started with "Somewhere Out There"*
1. Something Strange

Commander Riker raced into the shuttle bay, sliding around the last corner so fast that his feet nearly shot out from beneath him. A small craft came into view, its sides caked in dirt and debris. The thrusters glowed red hot and a low-pitched hum reverberated against the bay walls as its engines powered down. Riker waited for a hiss to indicate that the side hatch had been released, then yanked it upward impatiently. Three grim, weary faces looked back at him from the darkened interior. _Three_. When there should have been five.

"Wait-where's- _what the hell happened?_ " he fumed. Light, hurried footsteps bounded to his side. Counselor Troi peered into the shuttle. Her face tightened with worry as she noted two empty seats.

"It's not our fault!" a blonde-haired woman squeaked. Her voice trembled, threatening to break. Blood had seeped into a bandage wrapped around her arm, and a coat of dust covered her attractively rounded face. "Ensign Riker-she told us to get out of there if we got the chance! She told us to get help!"

Riker's countenance softened; clearly the crew was still shaken. "Well are they okay? Are they injured? Are they still-still-" _Alive,_ he wanted to ask. But the word hit a lump in his throat and could go no further.

"I don't know, I'm just-" The blonde burst into tears. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm just sorry."

One of the others, a stocky young man with platinum hair that had been cropped close to his scalp, cupped a calming hand over her shoulder. "We weren't alone down there, sir," he explained.

Riker shook his head. "That planet hasn't been inhabited for centuries, Haykov."

"By anything living, you mean," the third passenger mumbled. He was a classic-looking Bolian, with green-blue skin and a pronounced ridge running down the center of his face.

Haykov threw him a scowl. "I can't explain it, sir. But...something strange is definitely going on."


	2. Branching Out

**A/N: Thanks for the comments on the first chapter! They made me so happy and some of them made me laugh :-). I'm very excited to do this next episode, and introduce a few new characters/relationships. But we'll still see plenty of Riker-Troi, and of course Carmen. Thanks so much to everyone who is still following along!**

* * *

 _*One week ago*_

"What is that, spaghetti _again?_ "

Allan Sheppard glanced up, brushing a lock of chestnut brown hair from his forehead. "Oh, hey there Haykov!"

A burly young officer sat down across from him, cradling a bowl of chili. "You need to branch out, man."

Sheppard laughed good-naturedly. "Thanks but I'm uh, I'm just fine with my spaghetti," he insisted, bending over his pasta for another bite.

"Hey guys!" A pretty blonde carrying a plateful of fruit slid into the seat next to Sheppard. "Mind if I sit here?" She flashed them an alluring smile. Her emerald green eyes seemed to shimmer beneath the soft lights of Ten Forward.

"Kerry! Hi!" Sheppard swallowed his food a little too hastily and had to cough several times to assuage his windpipe.

She glanced down at his lunch. "Really, Sheppard? Spaghetti? I don't think I've ever seen you eat anything else."

"Didn't you just meet?" Haykov interjected.

"Us? No, we go way back. Back to the Academy." She gave Sheppard's shoulder a friendly nudge. "It took me awhile to realize we had been assigned to the same ship. He's like a ghost, this guy."

Haykov leaned his chair back, the bowl of chili resting atop his stomach. "So is that why you won't go out with me? Still pining over Sheppard?"

Kerry rolled her eyes. "You're repulsive enough on your own, thank-you-very-much."

Haykov exaggerated a frown. "Well, fortunately not all women share your opinion. Speaking of women-who's _that?_ " He leaned forward hungrily, tossing his chilli aside.

Kerry followed his gaze. "What, her?" she scoffed.

A young woman strode in wearing a crisp gold and black uniform. A long braid of raven-dark hair fell down her back and a book had been tucked beneath one arm. After placing a quick order with Guinan, she cast a leery eye about the cafe. Her gaze landed on an empty table near the tri-dimensional chess tower, and it was there that she settled down to wait for her food.

"Yes, her," Haykov shot back. "She's kind of exotic looking, don't you think?"

"Haykov, anything with breasts is exotic to you."

Sheppard tried to stifle a laugh and it resulted in a snorting noise. Haykov threw him a glare. "At least I'm _trying_ here, mister spaghetti-for-every-meal. When's the last time time you even asked a girl on a date?"

The young man's ears turned pink beneath his chestnut brown hair. Kerry tilted her head back, studying him. "Was it when you asked me?"

"No," he lied. His ears turned even pinker.

Haykov grinned at him apologetically. "Don't worry about it, bud. She rejected me too. What about that one, though?" He nodded towards the young woman with raven-dark hair. "I saw you staring, so don't even try to deny it." Like Haykov, Sheppard's eye had indeed been drawn to her. But there was a fond familiarity behind his gaze that the other had two failed to notice.

Kerry stole a glance. "Eh, she's alright. Oh my god, what is Guinan bringing her? Are those worms?!"

"Gagh," Sheppard corrected. "It's called gagh. And that's Carmen Riker."

" _That's_ Carmen Riker?" Kerry leaned over the table, lowering her voice. "The one who thinks she's part Klingon? I've heard that she and Worf kill holodeck monsters in their free time. Also, apparently she goes off in Klingon whenever she's mad. "

A suggestive smirk crept across Haykov's face. "I wonder when _else_ she goes off in Klingon," he said, wagging his eyebrows.

Sheppard blushed fiercely. "Come on, guys. Lay off of it."

Haykov paid him no heed. Instead, he rose from the table and ran a hand through his close-cropped, white-blonde hair.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" Kerry inquired.

"I'm branching out. Take notes, Sheppard." He winked and then turned towards the unsuspecting young woman. "I bet she'd appreciate someone who can be a real beast, if you know what I mean."

"You're not a beast, you're a pig," Kerry retorted, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Sheppard shook his head. _This oughta be good._

* * *

"Hey! Eating gagh?" Haykov flipped a chair around, straddling its seat and draping his beefy arms across its back.

Carmen's eyes remained on the open book before her. "Do you always state the obvious?" she snapped, a frigid edge in her voice.

But Haykov carried on, undeterred. "Some people can be pretty squeamish about this stuff. Not me, though." He reached for the dish. As he did so, one of the worm-like creatures wriggled towards his outstretched fingers.

Suddenly Carmen drove a knife down onto the plate. It landed mere inches from his hand with an ear-splitting ring of metal against glass. Haykov froze. His heart thumped against his chest. The creature stopped writhing.

"Goes down better if you kill it first," she casually explained, leaning back in her chair to resume reading.

"Ohh…" Haykov shuddered, equal parts aghast and aroused. "So uh...what drink goes best with gagh?"

"Why?"

"Let me guess, the blood of your enemies?" He chuckled at his own joke. But her eyes darted up from the book and narrowed at him, unamused.

"That sounds disgusting."

"It's just a….never mind. Anyways, how about I grab us a couple of-"

"You're in his chair," she interrupted, her eyes returning to the page.

"What?"

" _She said you're in my chair_ ," someone growled. His head whipped up to find Commander Riker towering over him, a contemptuous scowl planted on his face.

"Oh! Yes, um, here you are sir," Haykov offered, clambering hurriedly to his feet. "And um, enjoy your gagh!"

He scurried towards the back of the cafe, where he found Kerry in a fit of laughter. Sheppard, too, looked rather delighted (and somewhat relieved). "Really guys, I think she's into me," he insisted, tugging on the hem of his uniform as if it were his last scrap of dignity. "I mean, she even slayed a creature for me."

"It was a worm, Haykov," Kerry pointed out.

"Still. It's the thought that counts."

As all three of them fell into peals of laughter, a page came over Sheppard's combadge. " _Laforge to Sheppard_."

The young man gave his communicator a tap. "I'm here, sir."

" _Could you find Haykov and meet me in Main Engineering? I've got some news I think you'll like."_


	3. Captain's Orders

Carmen studied the chessboard thoughtfully, ignoring the drone of Ten Forward all around her. She didn't even notice when Sheppard and Haykov walked by on their way out, carefully avoiding Riker's watchful eye.

At long last one of her hands reached out and hovered above a black bishop. "Nope. You don't want to do that," Riker cautioned.

Her lips pulled into a thin, defiant line. "Watch me." She slammed it down several squares away.

The commander clicked his tongue. "Well, I tried." He picked up his queen and took out one of her newly exposed pawns. It was a seemingly innocuous move, but Carmen's jaw fell open when she realized that it would only take him two more moves to corner her king.

" _Baka_ ," she grumbled. "You've got me." She flicked her king over, conceding the match.

Riker folded his arms with an air of supreme smugness. "I assume you remember our deal?"

"Yes, yes," she griped. "What time?"

"How about 2100 hours? Don't be late, like last week."

"I couldn't help it," she protested. "You know I'm not allowed to leave my post until Worf clears me."

Riker settled deeper into his chair, slinging a foot atop his opposite knee. "How is that going, by the way? Working for a Klingon again?"

A sincere smile lit up her eyes. "I like it. A lot. Oh! And Worf said there's a bat'leth tourament next week, on Forcas III. It's Klingons only, so I'm not allowed to enter-"

"Phew! You know contestants get maimed on a regular basis, right?"

"-but do you think I could take shore leave to watch Worf compete? I know I've only been on duty for a few months now. But it would just be for a couple of days!"

Riker reached for a glass on the table. "Well, actually...Picard had something else in mind."

"He did?" Carmen's eyes widened. "Like what?

"Like an away mission." He smiled at her over the rim of his drink. "Geordi thinks a planet in this sector might be a good source of dilithium crystals. He suggested an away team to find out for sure."

"Why not send a probe?" Carmen asked.

"It's a desert planet with monstrous storm systems. Even our transporters won't work through that kind of interference."

"Then what makes him think it has dilithium crystals?"

"Folklore. Zinor used to be populated, you see. It was an ancient trading post. The Zinorians would take shelter in a network of underground caves during the worst of the storms. But they forbade outsiders to go near these caves. It sparked all kinds of rumors. Some say they heard the word "crystal" thrown around. Geordi says the planetary conditions would be right."

Carmen wavered. "But...why me? I don't know much about dilithium crystals. Or any kind of crystal."

"Well, Zinor's been deserted for centuries. But Picard wants a security detail assigned, just in case. He thought you might be keen to get on solid ground for a bit."

"Deserted? Why? What happened to the Zinorians?" Carmen found herself begrudgingly intrigued.

"Nobody knows. They just up and vanished one day."

"And the caves?"

"Traders can be pretty superstitious. The disappearance of the Zinorians seemed like the result of some curse, so they moved on to other trading posts and let Zinor fall by the wayside."

"I don't know; sounds like it might be kind of boring." She let out a sigh. "Compared to a bat'leth tournament, at least."

"Come on," Riker urged. "This'll be a chance to spend time with people closer to you in age. And with better taste in food." He eyed the plate of gagh disdainfully.

"Why do I need to spend time with people my age?"

Riker cleared his throat, stalling for an answer. "Well...it's just...I don't know, it's proper I guess."

"But I like spending time with you and the counselor." She played with a napkin as she sulked.

Riker smiled. There was a time when the young woman had been much more reticent in their company. Yet the memory of her parents had faded to a dull ache over the last few months, receding like a tide to make room for new possibilities. Every once in awhile she still came across some small, painful reminder that stung her in a way only small things could. A phrase Riker used, a silly habit, a trinket from his days at the Academy. And in those moments, she retreated even from him. Especially from him. But day by day, a shadow was slowly lifting from her countenance and her conscience.

"I enjoy spending time with you, too," he softly assured. "And so does Deanna. But it wouldn't hurt to...branch out a little. Make some new friends. There are a lot of people on the Enterprise. And many of them are worth knowing."

She rested her chin on a palm, staring glumly ahead. "Well, if it's the captain's orders..."


	4. Trying Again

**A/N: Angel897 and Zara08-You guys are the best! :-) I seriously love your comments, they always put a smile on my face.**

* * *

"Try again," Riker urged.

Carmen glared at him, trombone in hand. "I think it's clear that this isn't my strong suit."

"Nonsense! It's in your blood!" He adjusted her left hand, placing her index finger up high and her thumb over the brace. "There. Now stop tucking your elbows in. Loose, Carmen. Be loose."

"I _am_ loose," she growled.

"You're stiff as a board!"

"Well, maybe if I had a few sips of brandy first…"

"Carmen Riker!"

"I'm kidding! Kind of. Okay, okay…" She put her lips to the mouthpiece. Then, puffing out a series of controlled breaths, she moved the slide back and forth to produce a piece of _St. Louis Blues_. Riker listened attentively, nodding his approval every now and then. As she neared the end of the song, a proud smile curved one side of his mouth. But the last three notes soured, and she dropped the trombone with a groan of frustration.

"Hey, hey, you'll get there," he assured. "You just need a few more lessons, that's all."

"That means I'd have to lose a few more chess matches."

His smile turned into a sneer. "Like I said, you'll get there."

"Oh yeah? Well how about an anbo-jyutsu match next time? I'd like to teach _you_ a few things."

Riker shrugged dismissively. "Sure. If you win, that is. Which you won't."

"Hey you two-" Both heads turned to find Troi standing in the threshold of the small room. "Is it warm in here? Or is it just all that hot air?"

Carmen set the trombone down with a laugh. "Counselor! What are you doing here?"

"I told her to come by," Riker explained. He squeezed past Troi with a smile. "Thought maybe we could do something special, since it's your last night and all."

The young woman hopped up and followed him out to the kitchen area. "Last night? Please," she scoffed. "It's just a boring old away mission. I'll be back by the end of the week."

"If there's one thing I've learned," Troi said, bringing up the rear. "It's that there's no such thing as a boring old away mission. Sometimes, those are the most dangerous missions of all."

Carmen snorted. "I'm not afraid of a little danger."

Riker dug around beneath the counter and presently emerged with a skillet. "Yes, that's what worries me," he mumbled.

Troi moved into the kitchen and began pulling ingredients from various cupboards. _He_ is _worried, you know._ She held the young woman's gaze for a brief but meaningful moment. _Can you sense it?_

Outwardly, Riker appeared to be focused on the meal preparation. But the more that Carmen studied him, the more she felt a weight bearing down on her chest. It pressed into her lungs, into her mind, making her squirm as though she could wriggle out from beneath it.

She broke concentration. The feeling faded. It was replaced by a nagging pang of guilt for her intrusion upon his emotions. And for his concern. _I_ can _sense it. But why is he worried? He doesn't think I'll do well?_

 _He doesn't doubt your abilities. It's just...he feels responsible for you, and for whatever happens to you. He's going to miss you terribly._ Troi smiled at her warmly. _We both will._

Carmen smiled back. Riker carried on, oblivious to their conversation. And the young woman's mind drifted back to another time, to another life it seemed. She envisioned countless cold and bloody hillsides, piled high with cold and bloody bodies. She remembered all the children who were lost to the war, leaving her alone time after time. She thought of her walls that used to stand so tall, so strong, making it easy to believe that it was her choice to be alone. For years she had waited for the war to be over, for the chance to go home, for the chance to be a child. But instead she just grew up. Alone. And then she crashed on some god-forsaken planet, only to find that it was not so god-forsaken after all.

Her gaze softened with devotion as she looked up at the pair bustling about the kitchen together. Their faces concentrated on dinner but their eyes shone with a deep contentment. The scene was an ordinary one, blissfully so. The kind that Carmen never thought she'd get to see again. The kind that made her heart swell past the broken remains of her walls. _I will miss you, too._

"Commander?"

Riker threw a towel over his shoulder and looked up. "Hmm?"

"I'll be okay," she promised, a rare note of tenderness in her voice. "Really."

"Well you'd better be. Because if I have to come down there..." He shook his head, feigning exasperation. "It'll be nothing but trombone lessons for a _month!_ "

Carmen laughed, lightening the mood. And for the remainder of the evening, her away mission fell by the wayside of conversation.

* * *

"Hey, what's with that look?" Riker threw another dirty dish into the sink and then leaned back, arms folded across his chest. Carmen had left half an hour ago. And while Troi had stayed behind to help him clean up, Riker noticed a glum change come over the counselor.

"What look?" She took the dish and began scrubbing it.

"Deanna-" He tilted his head towards her sternly. "Come on. Tell me what's wrong."

Troi sighed. She let the sponge in her hand fall to the bottom of the sink. "Don't you think we should have told her?" she asked, turning her head to look him in the eye.

"Told her?"

"About...this. Us."

Riker looked away, tugging at the hem of his uniform. "Oh, uh...well-"

"It's just, why are we still keeping it a secret?"

"I don't know. I mean...hasn't Carmen been through enough? I don't want to get her hopes up or anything."

Troi's eyes narrowed. "You mean in case this doesn't work out?"

"Yeah, exactly." Riker thought that meant they had an understanding. But judging by her face, he had taken a wrong turn somewhere. "Well it didn't work out before," he added.

"So you're planning on that happening again?"

Another wrong turn. "Of course not!"

"Just preparing for it?"

Riker grimaced. He wasn't even sure he could get back on the map at this point. "No! I just...I'm thinking of Carmen, that's all."

"Are you sure it's Carmen and not your fear of commitment?"

Riker's cheeks ruddied. "Deanna, I've _been_ committed to you-ever since San Francisco! You know that! But if you want to put it out there, then fine, we'll put it out there! As soon as Carmen gets back. She oughta be the first to know."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Troi picked up the sponge and resumed washing. Riker let out a sigh. His vexation slowly ebbed in the silence that ensued.

"Here, let me do that," he offered after a time.

"Why?"

"Because you're scrubbing angry again."

"Am not."

He moved up behind her, putting his arms on either side of hers and taking hold of the sponge. "Oh really?" he quipped. "Because I know how gentle those hands normally are…" Riker nuzzled past her wavy tresses and pressed his lips against the ivory skin of her neck.

"Will!" she scolded, jabbing an elbow his direction. "I'm trying to stay mad at you!"

He moved his mouth up to her ear. "Well you're going to have to try harder," he purred. His hands wandered to her shoulders, where they massaged in slow, sensuous circles. Troi closed her eyes, reluctantly enjoying it. Then she laughed at her own defeat and turned around to face him.

"Or I could just give in." She pulled him against her, lips and all.

"Mmm...I like...that option...better," he said between kisses. Then he scooped her up, carrying her against him, and bore her gently down onto the bed.


	5. Take-Off

**A/N: Sorry this one took longer than usual! Every time I'd sit down to write, something else would come up. It's like life is conspiring against me! Anyways, without further ado, here's the next chapter! :-)**

* * *

"Any of you kids want a snack before we leave?" Haykov dropped a satchel onto the ground and then pulled a fistful of uttaberries out of a pouch on the front.

"Yuck," Kerry retorted. "And did you just call us kids? You're only like seven months older than me, idiot."

"Yeah but I'm also leading this away mission, so it's _Mister_ Idiot for the next four days."

Sheppard laughed, a grin lingering on his face. "If you insist!"

Haykov shoved him playfully in the chest. "Watch it, bud. Only the ladies can get away with that. To you, it's Haykov the Great."

"What are we waiting for, if you don't mind me asking?" A Bolian who had been standing politely to the side glanced around the shuttle bay. His skin shimmered with vivid hues of blue and green and a distinguished ridge ran down the exact center of his face.

"For our security," Haykov replied, popping a berry into his mouth. "Guess who they assigned me?"

"Assigned _us_ ," Kerry corrected.

Haykov shrugged. "She'll be mine soon enough. Ah, and here she comes!" He leaned against the side of the shuttle, taking in the view. Everyone followed his gaze to the top of the gangway. Carmen was making her way down, a large bag slung across her back. Her frigid blue eyes darted from face to face without any hint of a smile.

Haykov straightened both feet to the ground. "Ensign Riker! I didn't get a chance to introduce myself the other day. I'm-"

"Sheppard?" Her demeanor softened when she recognized the young man with chestnut brown hair.

Sheppard shouldered his pack and tried not to blush. "Oh, uh, hey!" He could feel Haykov's stare burning into him.

"Wait-you two know each other?" Kerry piped up. "Since when?"

Carmen tilted her head in the blonde's direction, her gaze hardening into a glare. "And your name is?"

"This is Ensign Kerry," Haykov interjected. "And I'm Haykov, leader of this away mission." His chest puffed out pretentiously. "Oh, and that's Orin. He's a Bolian."

"Bolian, huh? You sure he isn't Klingon?" Carmen pushed past his shoulder. "Now come on. We're wasting time."

* * *

" _You're clear to debark."_ Commander Riker's voice came over the intercom. " _We'll be watching from the bridge. Safe travels, team."_ Sheppard noticed Carmen smile to hear the commander's voice one last time.

"Settle in, kids!" Haykov called. "And don't worry, I'll get us there in one piece. Or two. Well, no more than three."

Kerry's head whipped towards him. "If you call us kids one more time-"

"How about some music? Computer, play-"

"No more mariachi! I swear to God, I'll kill you now and make it look like an accident!"

Sheppard sent Carmen a grin. "They're always like this, I'm afraid."

She raised a contemplative eyebrow. "Maybe I'll kill them _both_ and make it look like an accident." Orin snickered from the seat in front of her.

Their shuttle left the safety of the Enterprise and soon found itself in the gaping jaws of space. A lonely planet hovered within view, red and gold swirls dancing across its surface.

Sheppard cast a furtive glance at the raven-haired woman sitting beside him. His mind drifted back to a cold night and a beach breeze, to the roar of a crowd and the comfort of her strange company. He cleared his throat. "So uh, how have you been? Are you back on the Enterprise for good?"

"For good, yes. And I'll be staying this time." Carmen smiled in the wake of the confusion that flitted across his face. "Where do you work, anyways? I haven't seen you around since we left San Francisco."

"Oh, in engineering," he replied.

"With Geordi?" A certain fondness entered her smile. "I've been working with him, too!"

"I thought you were security, with Worf?"

"Of course I am."

Sheppard furrowed his brow. Somehow, her answers always confounded him. Yet somehow, he rather enjoyed it.

A flurry of flaxen clouds streaked past their windows. The shuttle began to rattle violently as they entered Zinor's atmosphere. "Hold on to something!" Haykov called. "It's about to get a little bumpy!"

Sheppard gripped the edge of his chair, none too fond of bumpy rides. Especially when they were hundreds of miles in the air. Then he noticed Carmen studying him out of the corner of his eye.

"You're frightened," she said, more of a statement than an accusation.

"Frightened? Uh...I...well…"

" _Ghay'cha._ I'm sorry, Sheppard." She turned away from him. "I didn't mean to intrude. I just...I can't seem to control it anymore."

The young man blinked several times. "Control it?"

She placed two fingers on her temple. "Up here."

 _Oh no...she can read my mind?_

"Don't worry, I can't read your mind," she said, unaware of the irony. "Just emotions."

The ground suddenly dropped from beneath Sheppard's feet. He threw out his arms, bracing himself against the chair in front of him. Haykov whooped with delight. "Now the fun is taking off! Computer, give me some _Mariachi Vargas de Tecalitlán_ _._ "

"Computer, don't you dare!" Kerry snapped. The shuttle jolted again. Sheppard's heart knocked around his chest like their spacecraft in the storm. He squeezed his eyes shut as a surge of panic rose higher and higher.

 _No. This isn't fun at all. Fun is baseball. Baseball. Think of baseball..._

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Carmen's voice sounded as casual as if they were talking over a couple of drinks and not plummeting towards certain death.

"Wh-What?"

"How long was Kerry your girlfriend for?"

" _What?_ " Sheppard's eyes flew open again.

"I said how long was Kerry-"

"She wasn't! We just...we went to the Academy together, that's all."

"How did you meet?"

"How did we-? Uh, in Temporal Mechanics. We were both freshmen. And we...well, we kept in touch for awhile."

The shuttle groaned with the effort of staying intact. "So when did you ask her out?"

Sheppard shook his head. "I thought you said you couldn't read minds!"

The shuttle groaned again, louder this time. Carmen pressed on. "I said when did you ask her-"

"Just-uh, just after our senior year started."

"Why did she say no?"

"Why?"

"Yeah, why?"

Chagrin flared in his chest, pushing his fear aside. "It...it doesn't matter. She said no." He found himself staring at the back of a blonde ponytail. "I didn't even find out she was on the Enterprise until just recently. We stopped keeping in touch after that, you see."

"There it is!" Orin exclaimed, leaning towards his window.

"Hmm?" Sheppard broke free from his memories and chanced a look. The ground beneath them levelled out as they finally cleared the storm. A red desert stretched towards the curved horizon. Crumbling structures marred its surface, their jagged walls thrusting upward like the bones of a carcass.

"It'll be smooth sailing from here," Haykov shouted over his shoulder. "And hey, who's hungry? I've got more uttaberries somewhere around here."

The breath finally returned to Sheppard's lungs. He looked over at Carmen, a relieved smile across his face. She flashed him a smile in return and then leaned back in her chair, resuming her wonted state of silence.

That's when it dawned on him. "You-you were distracting me, weren't you?"

"What?"

"All those questions. You were just trying to distract me."

Her smile turned smug. "Not trying. I did."


	6. Solitude

**Sorry for the delay! Been finishing up some house projects and daydreaming about my story, wishing that I was writing instead lol. Also, a funny anecdote for you guys-we live near a town called Troy, and I went to write it down for something but spelled it Troi like the counselor. Must be watching too much Star Trek! :-p.**

 **Anyways, enjoy! I promise to get back on track with my usual pace of posting. Thanks to everyone who is still reading!**

* * *

A red sun bled through the sky, casting an eerie, crimson light over the sand. Wind moaned across the desolate landscape, mourning its own solitude. Even the ruins seemed to loathe their loneliness as they huddled beside empty roads and dreamt of the bustle that had long since died.

 _I thought deserts were supposed to be hot._ Carmen rubbed the outside of her arms as she fought against a shiver that gripped her body. Then she adjusted the bat'leth strapped across her back and continued, her feet sinking into the sand with every step. In the distance, she could make out a spiral of smoke rising from the remains of a crumbling edifice, where the team had pitched camp. Her patrol had thus far taken her along the surrounding, rocky foothills. But there were no signs of danger, or even life, except for prickly, tree-like plants that sprang up in defiance of their unforgiving environment.

Eventually the foothills rose, climbing higher and higher into a small mountain range whose shadow loomed over the ancient city. Turning her face up, Carmen could make out several entrances to caves like great gaping mouths on the mountainside. One of them was close enough to feel its cool, damp air breathing over her. Something seemed to beckon from its dark depths, enticing the young woman with a promise of mystery and adventure.

Carmen hesitated. Already she had been gone for over an hour. Her stomach growled in anticipation of the dinner waiting for her back at camp. But the cave also seemed to be waiting for her. _Just a little detour. I'll be so quick, they won't even miss me._ She glanced one more time at the rising smoke, then started climbing towards the cave entrance.

It was a difficult climb, especially with the weight of the bat'leth. Yet Carmen welcomed the challenge. Her foot slipped once and she came crashing down on the jagged top of a rock, slicing her chin open. But she merely wiped at her chin with a sleeve and carried on. A determined curiosity coursed through her veins, warming her blood and fending off the evening's chill. Out here, alone, she didn't have to think about the wind making a mess of her hair or the dust that caked her uniform. She didn't have to worry about what to say and how to act. It was just her and the climb and the blood red sun.

With a groan of effort, Carmen pulled herself over the last ledge. The footing was much more solid up here. And wet; there must be water nearby. It pooled in every crack and fissure, shimmering with crystal clarity. It looked to Carmen as though the ground before the cave was littered with shards of glass, each one reflecting a piece of the scarlet sky. She gazed forth raptly, the breath stolen from her lungs.

Then a faint sound reached her ears, wavering in and out with each gust of wind. A sound that made her heart pound like a drum. The sound of battle.

There was a flurry of desperate shouts and then the blast of weapon fire. A woman screamed, her terror surging towards Carmen from the center of the city, from the same direction as the spiral of smoke that rose like a beacon against the crimson canvas of clouds. _The away team!_

Carmen scrambled back down the cliffside with such haste that the sharp edges of rocks cut into her uniform, scraping against her arms and legs and drawing forth jagged lines of blood. But she paid no mind to her own pain; she barely even dared to breathe until her feet finally touched flat ground again. And then she was off, kicking up flurries of sand with every stride. She raced into the city's decaying heart, past every crumbling wall that seemed to mock her urgency from the shadows.

"Sheppard!" she cried. "Haykov! Anybody!" _I should have returned to camp. I shouldn't have left them on their own, unguarded and unprotected. Damnit, Carmen!_

At last she spied someone running towards her on the beaten road. His white-blonde hair bore flecks of dust throughout. His brow was furrowed with worry. Haykov slid to a bumbling stop in front of her. "Hey, hey, I'm here! What is it? What's wrong?" He gripped her shoulders in an attempt to soothe her, but she jerked away.

"What do you mean what's wrong?" she rasped. "Where are the others?"

"The others? Why?" He stared back at her, utterly perplexed. Then he noticed the blood dribbling down her chin. "You're injured!" His hand reached for her face, but again she jerked away.

"There's no time for this!" She dashed past him and towards the towering wall that encircled their camp. As she came around the corner, she spied a pillar of fire rising from a shallow pit. Two figures were seated next to this fire. They sprang to their feet at the sudden sight of the panicked and panting young woman.

"Carmen?" Sheppard jogged towards her, leaving Kerry in the glow of the fire.

Nearby, Orin popped his head out of a tent. "What's going on?"

"I heard...you didn't...you're not…" Carmen's words refused to line up in a coherent order. She sputtered clumsily in front of them, embarrassment overtaking her relief.

"Carmen, are you okay?" Sheppard's eyes widened as he took note of the blood seeping through frayed tears in her uniform.

"I'm-I'm fine," she finally managed to spit out. "I just-I thought _you_ weren't."

"Me?"

"All of you! Didn't you hear it?"

She glanced between each of their bewildered faces, looking for some sort of validation. "There was a…a battle! Didn't you hear it?" Her feet moved backward, recoiling from her own humiliation. Only the crackling of the fire filled the air. All of them, even Sheppard, gaped back at her as if they had no idea who she was all of a sudden. It gave her the urge to crawl under a rock. But instead, she did the next best thing and fled, seeking the desert's solitude once more.


	7. Shadows

**A/N: Angel897-Thanks so much for your faithful reviews! I love signing on and seeing them! :-)**

* * *

Zinor's three moons appeared in a dark blue sky, presiding over the sand and the stones and the wind-beaten ruins. Carmen's eyes wandered across the stars as she leaned against a rough-hewn wall. The wall had once been part of a dwelling, but its roof had caved in long ago, affording her a grandiose view of night's arrival.

She sighed deeply, trying to clear her mind. At first, she had been grateful for the chance to be a wayfaring explorer, to go on a peaceful mission. But she was a warrior without a war, and now she had no idea what to do. It made her feel useless, unnecessary, unneeded. And alone.

Carmen envisioned the commander and felt a sudden a pang of loneliness. She knew that when he assigned her to be part of this team, his aspiration was for her to make friends, to fit in. But she _didn't_ fit in. Not here. Not in this universe. For she was more than just a misfit; she was an outsider. A shadow of a person that didn't exist. A piece that belonged to a different puzzle.

Word of her background had travelled quickly throughout the Enterprise, and so she found herself the frequent center of speculation and rumors. Other ensigns would often cast her furtive, nervous glances when she passed them in the hall, making her feel as though she were some exhibit to be gawked at. And now, thanks to her earlier blunder, the entire away team thought she was crazy. Even Sheppard.

Footsteps sounded on the old road. Carmen's well-honed instincts took over, shoving all other thoughts to the back of her mind. She gripped the edge of her bat'leth and sidled towards the crumbled doorway. Then, holding the breath in her chest and the bat'leth at her side, she peered cautiously around the corner.

Silence. Carmen's jaw clenched. Was this another trick of her ears? She had almost turned away when something emerged from a darkened doorway nearby. The breath flew out of her chest in surprise. She watched, transfixed, as a black figure stepped into the sickly yellow light of the moons. It was tall, too tall to be anyone from the away team. And there were no discernible features on its face, as if it were wearing a mask of some sort. It sauntered towards the next doorway and then slipped inside, blending seamlessly with the shadows.

The darkness seemed to penetrate Carmen's mind. She sensed the stranger's presence like a storm cloud, stifling her thoughts with a foreboding and oppressive silence. Malice. That was the feeling of malice.

The young woman sank back against the wall, keeping a covert eye on the figure as it made its way down the street, disappearing briefly into various structures and then emerging again with a whiff of disappointment. _They're looking for something,_ she thought. _What, though? There's nothing on this planet but dust and shadows._

Carmen considered tailing the mysterious figure as it faded into the distance. But echoes of its malice remained in her head and flickers of fear leapt up in its wake. She scoffed aloud at herself. Since when was she afraid? She had faced armies before. She had even faced the Borg. So why wouldn't her feet move?

 _My empathic senses_. Carmen remembered how quickly she had learned to bury those senses, to shut out fear and replace it with something cold, something efficient. But the counselor had been working with her to get back in touch with those emotions. Emotions that were not efficient. Emotions that made her feel like a soldier without armor.

Another set of footsteps approached. Carmen crouched, poised and ready. She clenched down on her teeth, trying hard to block out her Betazoid senses lest the fear return. Then, as soon as the footsteps passed her doorway, she sprang forth and tackled their owner to the ground.

She was met with a yelp of surprise. It sounded distinctly male. He put up a fight, but his abilities paled in comparison to the young woman. Soon Carmen was straddling his chest, pinning her legs against his sides. One of her arms snaked under his chin and pressed down, slowly crushing his windpipe.

Then she caught sight of his eyes. Wide and fearful eyes. Chestnut brown eyes. "Sheppard!" she exclaimed, immediately pulling back. "I didn't realize it was you!"

Air surged into his lungs. His chest heaved beneath her. "Oh, um-" A hoarse cough rattled in his throat. "It's okay. I didn't mean to be sneaking around. I should've known it would scare-I mean startle-that it would startle you."

Carmen wiped a smear of dust from his face with an apologetic grimace. "No, no. It's not your fault. I saw a-" She paused. "Well, I _thought_ I saw something." Then she realized she was still atop him and hurriedly slid to the ground. Sheppard sat up, clearing his throat several times.

"Saw something?" he echoed. "Out here?"

"Maybe. I...I don't know." Carmen's cheeks stung. "It was just as real as what I heard earlier. But I was wrong about that. So I could be wrong about this, too."

"How did you get hurt?"

Her hand flew to the dried blood on her chin, reminded. "Oh. I was just doing some climbing."

Sheppard nodded slowly. "Climbing...okay. Well-" He pulled his jacket collar up. "It's pretty cold out here. Want to uh, head back to camp?"

"I suppose," she replied, somewhat reluctant. As they both pushed off the ground, Carmen cast him a sideways glance. "So what were you doing out here anyways?"

"Me? Oh, well, I was...um...concerned." They started off together in the direction of a column of smoke.

"Concerned? Why? Did you see something, too?" She stiffened suddenly, throwing a cautious look over her shoulder.

"No, no," he demurred. "I mean...about you."

A lopsided smile crossed Carmen's face, chasing away her wariness. And when the young man smiled back, her loneliness fled as well.

Perhaps she had made a friend after all.


	8. A Misunderstanding

**A/N-I loved each review on the last chapter! :-). And I'm so psyched that you guys are still following along. Thanks for the encouragement, it keeps me going!**

 **Autumnrose2010-Ahh sorry, I forgot to explain that Deanna is her mother. Carmen was sent to work on a Klingon ship after she was drafted, since Klingons were their strongest ally and human ships were numbered. So she has Klingon mannerisms because she spent her formative years among them. I was inspired to include that in her history because of the episode where Riker works on a Bird-of-Prey as part of an exchange program and fits in surprisingly well. I thought that his daughter would share the same propensity. Anyways, I'm glad you are still reading, and let me know if you have any other questions! :-).**

* * *

"Where did everyone go?" Carmen asked, every muscle tensing. One of her hands reached back to rest on the edge of her bat'leth. They had returned to camp to find nothing but empty tents and a fire burning alone. Its glow touched the edge of Sheppard's face and turned a few of his chestnut curls gold.

"It's okay," he assured. "When I left, they were headed over to the shuttle for a game of kadis-kot. Kerry was too cold to play out here."

The young woman's hand slowly returned to her side. She nodded, making her way closer to the heat of the flames. "I missed supper, didn't I?"

"Yeah. But I could get you something from the replicator, if you want. I was going to check in with them anyways." When she did not protest, he turned in the direction of the shuttle.

"They think I'm crazy. Isn't that right?"

Her question, and the frankness of it, caught him off-guard. He froze, fumbling for an answer. "What? N-No! Of course not!"

Carmen sat down in the sand and drew her knees up to her chest. She knew he was lying, even without her empathic senses. But his deception, while good-intentioned, stung her in a way she did not expect. "Pancakes," she grumbled.

Sheppard found himself completely confounded, a state of mind he was quickly getting used to. "Pardon?"

"Pancakes will be fine. If you're headed to the shuttle anyways."

"Oh! Right. Yeah." A smile fought to lift his lips. "I'll be right back."

* * *

Sheppard approached the open shuttle hatch. Bright lights from within cast a row of white squares onto the sand beside the craft. Familiar voices drifted towards him above the wail of the wind. "Hey guys," he hailed, ducking inside. Kerry, Haykov and Orin looked up from their board game.

"Hey! Want to join in?" Haykov offered, grabbing a handful of peanuts from the surface of the small, white table and shoving them into his mouth. "Maybe you'll stand a better chance against me than these losers."

Kerry snorted. "Haykov, you've already lost three rounds."

"Yeah but fourth time's a charm," he shot back. "Works that way with women, too."

Sheppard smiled politely as he made his way over to the replicator. "No, that's okay. I was just going to grab some food."

"What happened to your uniform?" Kerry eyed his dust-smeared clothes. "Looks like you were rolling around in the dirt."

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Just a little...uh...misunderstanding, that's all."

"Misunderstanding?" Kerry repeated. "And that bruise! It looks like someone punched you in the face!"

He swallowed nervously. "No, not a punch. It was just her elbow."

" _Her?_ " The blonde-haired woman jumped to her feet. "Oh my gosh, did Ensign Riker attack you?!"

Haykov choked on a mouthful of peanuts. One of them flew across the table, smacking Orin in the forehead. He wiped it away with a disgusted frown. Meanwhile, Haykov fixed his gaze on the young man standing near the entrance. "Tell me the truth, Sheppard...was it hot?"

"Haykov!" Kerry smacked the back of his head. Then she walked over to Sheppard and grabbed his chin, tilting it upward to better examine the fresh bruise along his jawline.

"I'm alright, really. She didn't know it was me," he insisted.

"Maybe she was hoping it was me," Haykov smirked. But the others merely ignored him.

"I was afraid this would happen." Kerry clicked her tongue. "You saw the way she came charging into camp earlier. She's dangerous. Unpredictable. I don't think we should trust her."

"She's just spooked, that's all," Sheppard argued. "And I think we should listen to her. What if she really did come across something out there?"

Kerry let go of his chin, then spied another mark. "Your neck! What did she do, try to choke you?"

Sheppard turned up his jacket collar. "I said she didn't know it was me!"

"Lord have mercy!" Haykov wiped at his brow, pretending to swoon. "You're a lucky dog, Sheppard. A lucky dog."

The young woman threw him a glare that wiped the smirk from his face.

"I also think we should listen to her." Orin pitched in for the first time. He shifted uncomfortably when all eyes turned toward him. "There is something strange about this planet. Don't you know what happened to the Zinorians?"

"Nobody knows what happened, Orin." Kerry leaned against the replicator and folded her arms.

"I heard they were taken by the...the _Nokk Qoten_." The Bolian whispered his last two words as if afraid he might invoke something.

"The Nokk Qoten don't exist," Kerry scoffed. "And that's a myth from _your_ planet, anyways. I doubt the Zinorians ever even heard of it. They probably just got tired of all this sand and packed up. The _real_ danger is Ensign Riker."

"They assigned her to this mission for our protection," Sheppard reminded them. "She's not our enemy."

"They assigned her to this mission because she's Commander Riker's pet project." Kerry turned her blood-chilling glare toward the young man.

"Still," he said, trying his best not to shrink away. "Picard trusts her. I think we should, too."

A tense silence filled the shuttle, broken only by the moan of the wind outside the open hatch. At last, Kerry sighed resignedly. "Do what you want, Sheppard. Just...be careful. Okay?" She rested a gentle, almost tender, hand on his arm.

The young man looked down at her hand, then back at her face. Its delicate features were wrenched with genuine concern, concern that would have made his heart thump not too long ago. "Hey, there's no reason to worry about Carmen," he promised. "You'll see."

* * *

After Sheppard had left the shuttle, a bowl of spaghetti in one hand and pancakes in the other, Kerry wandered back to her seat.

"So are we still playing?" Haykov asked, glancing between her and Orin while tapping one of his game pieces on the table.

"He called her Carmen," Kerry mused aloud.

"Yeah. Because that's her name, silly," Haykov retorted.

Kerry blew out a peevish breath. "I mean instead of Ensign Riker."

"So you _are_ still pining over Sheppard! I knew it!" Haykov grinned, rather amused by the prospect.

"Am not! We were just friends, okay? Good friends. But I could never be with a guy like that."

"Why's that?"

"He's just...I don't know. Too quiet. But he used to be different, I think. Before the Academy. Before his mom passed away."

"Different?" Orin asked.

"Yeah. Like he's just a shadow of a person now. When I first met him, it had just happened. He was still processing it all. I mean, how do you cope with becoming an orphan?"

"I don't know. But I can't see that guy doing anything crazy, like getting wasted." Haykov chuckled. "What about his dad? Didn't he have one?"

"His dad was some big-shot pilot. Died in an accident when Sheppard was only a boy. Left some awfully big shoes to fill." Kerry's gaze drifted out the window. "And you're right; he'd never do anything crazy. He was a good student, a good cadet...a good _guy_. He just...he gets attached so easily. I didn't want to be somebody's crutch, you know?"

"So you're saying you want someone more outspoken and ruggedly handsome. Like me."

Kerry punched him in the arm. "Haykov, there's no chance in hell that I'd ever date you."

"What about Zinor? Is there a chance on Zinor?" He ducked, laughing, as she threw her kadis-kot pieces at him.

"Shut up and finish the game!"

"Yes, ma'am."


	9. Greatest Fears

**A/N- bnewall1-That was such a sad episode! But definitely a good one. It's always refreshing to see things from other crewmembers' eyes for a change. It's a high compliment that anything I wrote reminded you of an actual episode! Thanks so much! :-D**

* * *

Something was wrong. Carmen could sense it even before she opened her eyes. She bolted upright, grasping at the edge of her blanket as though it were a shield. A figure towered over her. He stared down at the young woman with one sinister red eye while his hand reached towards her neck.

She wanted to flee. She wanted to fight. Yet she could do nothing but scream as two needle-like appendages protruded from the top of his hand and buried into her jugular like a pair of fangs. The sound of her scream was swallowed up as dozens-no _hundreds_ -of other voices filled her head, jarring her own thoughts loose. She could feel those thoughts slipping away, borne on some malicious tide which carried them farther and farther from the outstretched fingers of her mind.

Her skin began to crawl, pulling and stretching in different directions. Strange bulges appeared beneath her flesh, which had turned ashen as a corpse. She looked only half human now. And half something evil. Pain racked through her entire body, but there was no escape. There was no fleeing, no fighting. For her muscles were no longer hers for the bidding.

The voices suddenly chanted as one, loud enough to reverberate against her skull and silence her screams for good. " _There is no longer you. There is only us. Resistance is futile_."

* * *

"Carmen!" Sheppard was shaking her shoulders. She gaped at him, trembling beneath his hands. "Carmen? Can you hear me?"

"Sheppard?" Her voice sounded a million miles away.

"That's it." He gave her his best attempt at a smile. "It's just me. I heard you screaming. Did you see something again?"

 _The Borg!_ She leapt up so suddenly that it knocked Sheppard flat onto his back. Her hands flew over her face and body, feeling for any sign of assimilation. "I'm me? I'm me again?"

"What the hell is going on? Sheppard!" Kerry appeared in her tent doorway. She ducked under the partially open flap and helped the young man to his feet. Orin came into view as well, looking frantically over the scene.

Carmen glanced around. She tried to muddle through the mess in her mind. There was no sign of a Borg drone, no sign of an enemy at all. In fact, everything was as she left it the night before. It slowly dawned on her that it had all been a nightmare. And that she had made yet another blunder in front of her team.

"Sheppard, I'm so sor-"

"You've done enough, okay?" Kerry tried to pull him out of the tent, but he resisted.

"No, Kerry, it was just-it was an accident. I'm fine."

"Was it also an accident when she almost strangled you earlier?"

Carmen winced. Her eyes darted between them. She felt as though something sharp had been lodged into her back. "You...you told her?"

Then it was Sheppard's turn to wince. "Well...uh...yeah. But I know you didn't mean to-"

"Stop making excuses for her!" Kerry fumed. "I think we should confine her to the shuttle for now. Where's Haykov?"

"Confine me?" Carmen's hands clenched into fists. She took a menacing step forward. "I'd like to see you try!"

"Haykov! Haykov, wake up!" Kerry called, a hint of sudden fear in her emerald green eyes.

The burly young man poked his head out of his tent, still sluggish with sleep. "I don't usually complain when a woman calls for me in the middle of the night, but...what the hell guys? What's all the racket about?"

"It's Ensign Riker!" Kerry kept her eyes on the other young woman. Her clothes clung to her skin in a cold sweat. Raven black hair poked out of a messy braid in all different directions. She crouched as though ready to spring.

"Wait, it's Ensign Riker calling for me?" Haykov perked up.

"You idiot-she attacked Sheppard again!"

"She didn't attack me, Kerry!" The young man rubbed the back of his neck, distraught. "I just lost my balance, that's all!"

"Sheppard, you've got to stop this."

"He has to stop what, exactly?" Carmen moved to his side, a silent snarl curling her lips.

Kerry took a nervous step back. "Can't you see that you're just hurting him? Intentionally or not. He clearly isn't safe around you."

Sheppard could see Carmen's face crumbling with every word. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "No, that's not true-"

"Just stop," she snapped, shirking his hand away. "You don't have to defend me, Sheppard. I can take care of myself." She turned and grabbed her daypack and her bat'leth.

"Wait-what are you doing? Carmen, don't leave again! Please!" he begged.

"Don't come after me this time, you understand?" She pushed past him on her way out of the tent. Kerry and Orin moved back as well, giving her a wide berth.

"Ensign Riker!" Haykov jogged over. "Hey, hey. Talk to me. What happened?"

"Out of my way, Haykov."

"I'm leader of this expedition, remember? Now I'm ordering you to stay here and talk this over-"

"Make me." She carried on without so much as a glance back. They watched her silhouette receding into the dark. The wind picked up, erasing her footsteps as well. And soon it was as though she had never even been there.

* * *

" _CARMEN! NO!_ " Troi cried, shattering the silence of her quarters.

At her side, Riker nearly fell out of bed in surprise. "Computer, lights!" he called. Then he rubbed at his eyes as they flooded with brightness. "Deanna? What is it? What's wrong?" His heart pounded in his chest and in his ears.

The counselor gasped for breath, still recovering from her shock. "The Borg," she whispered. "I-I saw the Borg. I think they're down there."

"What?!" A shudder seized the commander. "Are you sure?"

She turned her head and stared at him grimly. "I saw one of them standing over Carmen. She-" Troi choked on a surge of tears. "I've never felt that before. Not from her."

"Felt what?"

" _Terror._ She was so afraid. Will, we have to-"

"I'm on it." He threw back the covers and hastily began to pull on clothes. "Come on. Let's go wake the captain."

* * *

"Counselor, how positive are you that what you saw was real?" Picard reclined in his chair, his fingers steepled together and his brow furrowed in contemplation. Riker and Troi occupied two seats before him, worry etched into their faces.

"Not a hundred percent, sir," Troi admitted.

"Could it have been a nightmare perhaps? One of her nightmares, I mean? I know you've done extensive work with Carmen on that front."

"Her nightmares have always been re-enactments of things that already happened. Flashbacks, if you will. This was no flashback."

"Mister Laforge said the communicators still can't penetrate Zinor's atmosphere. And you can't reach her telepathically?"

"No, sir. I haven't been able to this whole time. The distance...and her mind is still so untrained…"

"I see." Picard returned to his silent ruminations.

"Sir," The commander leaned forward anxiously. "I'd like to go down to the surface myself. Check on things. Just give me the word and I'll get a team together-"

"I know you don't want to hear this, Number One," Picard interrupted. "But if the Borg are on that planet, then the away team is already lost. And the Enterprise could be in grave danger; it would not be wise to stick around."

"We can't just give up on them, sir."

"No. I won't. Not yet." A faint smile touched Picard's lips. "We'll send them a message. If we don't hear anything by 900 hours, we'll consider our options then."

Riker nodded slowly, begrudgingly. The thought of anyone from his crew being in danger while he sat by was almost unbearable. And the image of Carmen facing her greatest fear alone only spurred his urgency, pushing him towards desperation. But, as always, the captain had made the most prudent call. And also the most gut-wrenching one. There was nothing to do now but wait.


	10. Storm Clouds

Morning finally came. It was nothing more than a few red rays breaking through a storm-stifled sky. But it illuminated the empty ruins around Carmen enough to give her disturbed mind some peace at last.

The nightmares had continued. Time and again, the Borg came for her. Sometimes it looked like the shadow figure. Sometimes it even looked like Commander Wharton. But never could she escape assimilation.

Carmen slowly sat up, stretching her stiff muscles. "I'm alone as you, now," she said to the walls with a wry smile. The wind answered her, howling through the centuries-old doorframe. "And you," she quipped. How long had the wind been crying through those empty streets, she wondered. How long had these walls been sinking beneath the weight of their loneliness? What had they witnessed so many years ago, when their people were taken from them?

As she pondered, she could suddenly see the room around her the way it used to be. Instead of bleak and barren, it was warm and inviting. A vivid red tapestry lay across the hard dirt floor. Paintings, comprised of streaks of colors that looked like sunsets, hung from the walls. A female sat before the hearth, stirring a savory-smelling broth that bubbled from a pot. She had orange skin with bands of brown across her forehead and cat-like green eyes. Her mahogany hair had been wound into multiple braids, each one adorned with teal or yellow beads. A child played with some sort of clay on the floor near Carmen's feet. His chubby hands tried to form the lump into a four-legged animal. She crouched down to his level and marveled at his blithe contentment. Here was a child who had never seen the harrowing face of war. A yearning bloomed in her heart, an intense desire to protect and preserve the innocence that radiated from him.

The wind shifted, blowing a flurry of sand at her face. She shook her head with a cry of dismay, shielding her eyes. When she uncovered her face again, the room had returned to its derelict state. Gone was the mother and child. Gone was the tapestry, the broth, the clay. And instead of comfort, Carmen could only feel a profound sense of sadness and loss.

"I know," she whispered, speaking again to the walls. Her chest heaved mournfully. "I know what it's like to lose someone. I'm sorry."

* * *

All four junior officers huddled in the grounded shuttle, bent over their respective breakfast dishes. The silence was mercifully broken by the wail of the wind. It whipped sand against the small, square windows as the storm finally broke.

Haykov pushed at his plate of biscuits and gravy. "It doesn't feel right. We should have mentioned that Ensign Riker is gone."

"You told them everything was fine, and everything _is_ fine. She'll come around." Kerry tilted her head back for a sip of juice. "Can you believe it? We're barely gone twenty-four hours and Commander Riker has to check in with us. Can't stand being away from his pretend daughter, I suppose."

"That's enough, Kerry!" Sheppard snapped. The others stared at him in disbelief. He looked up, a bit surprised himself. "It's just that...you've...well, you've changed. You used to be better than that."

Kerry's mouth opened, but no reply formed. Haykov hurriedly interjected. "I say we go look for her. Agreed?"

Orin paused, fork in hand. "Aren't we supposed to go to the caves? We only have three days to get that data before the storm hits its peak. Some say storms are what attract the _Nokk Qoten,_ you know."

"Enough with the Nokk Qoten!" Kerry groaned. "And hey, maybe she's _in_ the caves."

"Kerry…" Sheppard warned.

"I'm trying to help! Why not check the caves first, get some initial data. Then, if we still haven't found her, we can head into the city. Keep looking."

Haykov shrugged. "Sounds good. But if she's going to put her hands on anybody again, it better be me."

* * *

"Knock, knock!"

Counselor Troi's head whipped up. In the threshold of her office, the commander was grinning back at her. "Will!"

"Thought you might want some company on your break." He stepped into the room. The doors swished closed behind him.

"Yes, thank-you." She patted the sofa beside her, which was a pleasant, muted shade of purple. The walls were colored soft green, and a vase of pink orchids sat on a table between the sofa and an armchair. The entire room exuded softness and serenity.

Riker gladly accepted the invite. He eased himself down with a sigh. "How are you holding up? Have you sensed anything else?"

"Not for hours now."

"But you _did_ sense more?"

"Just faint waves of the same fear." Without looking, she clasped one of his hands between both of hers. "Do you think they were telling the truth? That everything is alright?"

The commander sighed again. "I can't think of a reason why they'd lie. Maybe Picard was onto something. Maybe it's just her nightmares returning. It _is_ her first away mission, after all. Since joining us, I mean."

Troi nodded thoughtfully. "I should have considered that it might lead to some regression."

"You think she wasn't ready?"

The counselor traced her fingers over his hand, letting them run in small, soothing circles. "Ready or not, she's down there. We have to trust her now."

"Yeah. She'll be okay. Right?"

"Right." Troi leaned her head against his shoulder, knowing that each had tried hard to sound convincing.

"Hey, Deanna?" Restless waves curled away from his stormy mind. She looked up at him, concerned.

"What is it?"

"I've been thinking about what you said the other night. And...I think you were right. I told myself that I was keeping this a secret for Carmen's good. But the truth is..." He took a deep breath. "I _am_ scared. Of commitment. Of having you. Of losing you. This all happened so suddenly, you know?"

"Really? Because I thought we had been dancing around this for years."

"No, I mean...feeling like part of a family. I've been on my own since I can remember, even on the days when my father was actually around."

Troi buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. "I'm so sorry, Will. I should have thought about that. I am a counselor, after all."

"Hey, it's okay. Took me awhile to sort it out myself." He reached up and brushed dark strands of hair away from her forehead. "I do like this, though. As terrifying as it is."

"Terrifying?"

"Yeah. Two empaths? I'll never get away with anything!"

Her delightfully smug laughter filled the office. The commander's chest bounced beneath her as he joined in. "Well what about me?" she quipped. "I've got two Rikers to worry about now!"

"We are a lot of trouble, aren't we?" He sent her a devilish grin. "Hey, but admit it. Things are more exciting this way."

She scoffed loudly. "I've had enough excitement for one day, thank-you."

His hand slid across her hips. "You sure about that?"

"Will! I have another appointment in ten minutes!"

"Plenty of time." He pulled her on top of him, despite her laughing, shrieking protests. Soon her protests dissolved into fervent kisses. And the dark clouds that had hovered over their minds evaporated in the blaze of their bond.


	11. The Storm Begins

**A/N: Angel897-You're the best :-)**

 **Zara08-Your comment made me laugh SO HARD! Hahaha omg I love it!**

 **Thanks to everyone who is reading along! I hope you're enjoying it!**

* * *

Carmen set off through the city, alone on the wide, empty road. She held her jacket up around her head as protection from the sand that obscured her view. Great red clouds marched above. Wind howled at her feet like a hungry hound. It was just the beginning of the storm.

A grain of sand lodged itself in her eye and she paused, cursing under her breath, to rub it out. As she did so, something flared in her empathic senses like a fire. Something she had sensed before in those very ruins. Malice.

A black, shadowy figure emerged through the flurries of sand, head bent down out of the wind. Hastily, Carmen put her back against the nearest wall. She slid along until she came to a doorway, then ducked inside.

Her breathing quickened as she waited for the shadow figure to pass by, hoping he had not seen her. Both hands tightened around the edge of her bat'leth as footsteps sounded across the hard ground, drawing closer and closer.

And then there he was, practically within reach. He trudged past, oblivious to her watchful eye. Carmen's heart pounded with the same fear as before. But this time, she willed her feet forward. This time, she would not let the phantom disappear without a trace.

"Not so fast." Just as she stepped back onto the road, a voice made her freeze in her tracks. She swivelled around slowly. Another figure materialized through the thick dust that hung in the air. He wore all black, with a mesh mask pulled over his head that made him appear eerily faceless. A phaser in his hand was aimed directly at her heart.

Carmen's eyes darted to the side. Two more figures appeared, similarly disguised and stalking towards her. They fanned out to form a broad semicircle around the young woman. And then they closed in.

* * *

"Damn all this sand!" Kerry griped. "I feel like I'll be cleaning it out of my hair for a week!" The team was making their way towards the mountain range, and towards the caves. Their vision clouded with dust as the wind grew in strength. "What did the Zinorians like about this place, anyways? It's awful."

"We'll be in the caves soon, okay? No wind. No sand. And your hair looks fine," Haykov promised. "It's got that sexy, windblown kind of look."

"How would you like a just-got-your-ass-kicked sort of look?"

"Oh, Kerry," he swooned. "You know me so well."

Orin looked over at Sheppard and rolled his eyes. "They don't quit, do they?"

The young man shook his head. "Afraid not. Maybe they should just go on a date already."

"Not a bad idea," Haykov said, grinning over his shoulder at them. "Although it might make Ensign Riker jealous." He tilted his head to the side. "Which is also not a bad idea."

"I don't know what you guys see in her," Kerry scoffed. "She's as huggable as one of these things." She kicked at a spiny plant, the likes of which littered the base of the foothills.

Haykov wagged his eyebrows. "What's the matter Kerry, are _you_ feeling jealous?"

"In your dre-" The young woman's retort turned into a cry of surprise as she tumbled over something in her path.

"Kerry!" Sheppard rushed to her side. His heart leapt into this throat to see a smear of blood across the front of her uniform.

Orin hissed something under his breath, backing away hastily. Confused, Sheppard followed his gaze to the object that had caused Kerry to stumble. His stomach lurched violently.

A body lay mangled and mutilated on the ground. Or part of a body, at least. Ribbons of flesh hung from a rib cage. Blood pooled in the sand beneath it. One leg and two arms twisted away at unnatural angles. There was no sign of the other leg. Or a head.

Orin wretched. Kerry's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a whimper. She turned and buried her face in Sheppard's chest.

Haykov sank to his knees. "We're...we're too late," he moaned.

Sheppard's eyes tore away from the gruesome scene. "What do you mean?"

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have let her leave."

"No." Sheppard tried to swallow what felt like a mouthful of cotton. "It's not her. It can't be her. Kerry, you have the tricorder, right?"

"Wh-what?" She looked up at him, her bottom lip aquiver.

"The tricorder. It would tell us for sure."

"Sheppard, buddy…" Haykov crawled towards them. He rested a hand, heavy as their hearts, on the young man's shoulder. "We're the only ones on this planet, remember?"

"Can we move on? Please? I don't want to-I can't look at it-" Kerry gasped for breath as she began to hyperventilate. Haykov pulled her into his arms.

"Come on. Let's go, guys."

Sheppard didn't budge. "But shouldn't we-"

"I said let's go. Whatever did that to her might still be around. Let's get somewhere safe and then...and then we can go from there." Haykov kept an arm wrapped around Kerry's waist and pulled her gently to her feet. Orin followed them away from the grisly remains, glancing about fearfully.

Sheppard alone stayed behind. He forced himself to look at the body one more time. He searched for a clue, any kind of sign that it was her. Then his eye caught sight of something attached to a bloody scrap of cloth that hung from the ragged rib cage. Something small and V-shaped and familiar.

It was a Starfleet combadge. Sheppard's stomach lurched again. Bile rose to the back of his mouth. Though his head was now certain, his heart still fought to accept it. He pushed himself to his feet, his legs like rubber as he joined the others in shell-shocked silence.


	12. Not Alone

**Zara08-LOL I like the redshirt theory hahahaha :-) Your comments are hilarious!**

* * *

"Just...take a minute, everybody. Let's catch our breath." Haykov leaned against the cave wall, recovering from the climb. He studied the long, weary faces around him. Their climb up to the cave had taken its toll on everybody. But that would be much easier to recover from than the shock of what laid at the bottom.

Sheppard fared worst of all. His skin looked greenish and clammy, much like the damp cave walls. "She didn't deserve to die like that…" he mumbled, staring back at the red circle of light that illuminated the cave's entrance.

"What do you think did that, anyways?" Kerry gulped. "What could-what kind of creature-"

"Alone, I mean." Sheppard's chest heaved beneath the weight of the word. "She didn't deserve to die alone."

"I know, buddy." Haykov straightened his shoulders, trying to muster all the morale he could despite the heaviness of his own feet and heart. "And I'll take full responsibility when we get back to the Enterprise."

"No!" Kerry balked. "You'll be reassigned! We all saw her storm off, we all heard what she said-"

"I'm the leader, okay?" Haykov's countenance was suddenly a far cry from its usual joviality. "Nothing like that should have happened on my watch. But it won't happen again, I promise you that. Now let's do what we came here to do." He shouldered his bag and trekked further into the cave, leading the way.

The others followed in glum silence. Beneath them, the cave floor began to slope downward. Water dripped from the walls like a cold sweat. Soon, the red light of day fell out of reach and they could only see what lay within the beam of Haykov's flashlight. It cut a swath through the darkness, landing on long, fang-like stalactites that hung menacingly from above.

"Watch out!" Haykov threw out an arm suddenly, stopping Orin in his tracks. A few pebbles shook loose from beneath his feet and clattered down into a vast cavern. Echoes of their fall faded into the distance, faint as thunder rolling on the horizon. Red shafts of daylight pierced through the ceiling like spears and struck the surface of a black lake.

"Over there," Kerry whispered, "Are those stairs?" Her voice, soft as it was, shattered the reverent silence. Haykov followed her gaze. Huddled against the cave wall, a narrow flight of stairs descended into the cavern. They had been carved out of rock and sanded down by time itself.

"Let's go." Haykov once again led the way. He kept one hand pressed against the dusty wall for balance. His other hand trained the flashlight on each next stair. "And be careful."

Step by step, the team made their way down. A frigid wind raked across their cheeks. It carried the smell of dampness and dirt. Goosebumps appeared across Haykov's skin. He could have sworn the wind carried something else, too. "Did you guys hear that?" he asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder.

The others looked back at him, puzzled. Orin nervously licked his lips. "Hear what?"

"Nothing." Haykov carried on. But after only three more steps, he heard it again. Singing. A woman was singing.

All four of them froze mid-stride. The singing rose up like a wisp of smoke, reaching their ears with a pleasant but haunting melody. It almost sounded like a lullaby, something sung to pass the time.

"Haykov, I don't like this," Kerry whispered. "We should leave. We should-"

"It's alright," he assured her, though a ghastly shiver coursed through his body. "Sheppard, can you get the tricorder out of her bag?"

Sheppard nodded, his face taut with fear. He lifted the flap of a bag strapped to her back and reached inside. Presently he withdrew his hand, clutching the tricorder tightly. "Here," he offered, holding it out. Kerry passed it to Orin, who passed it Haykov.

Haykov tried not to let his hand tremble as he pushed a few buttons on its surface. But when it trilled in reply, his trembling worsened. "That's...that's impossible," he stammered. His eyes whipped up, searching the cavern around them. The singing stopped.

"What?" Kerry squeaked. "What is it?"

"It says...it says this cavern is full of life forms."

A gasp escaped her lungs. "Wh-what kind of life forms?"

Haykov shook his head. "Unknown. But there are fourteen of them. Seventeen. Twenty-three. They're...they're multiplying."

" _The Nokk Qoten_ …" Orin hissed, bumping into the young woman as he recoiled backwards.

"Not right now Orin, okay?" Haykov snapped. Then he realized that the Bolian's eyes were fixed on something beside him. The blood froze in his veins. Fear gripped his chest so tight that he could no longer breathe. Slowly, Haykov turned his head.

Something was looking back at him. A face pulled away from the cave wall. It had two big black eyes, but no mouth, no nose. Just greenish-gray skin stretched across a lumpy, hairless head. " _They are coming_ …" Voiceless words blew across Haykov's mind like an icy draft. The ground began to shake. Pebbles rattled at their feet. More and more faces appeared on the wall next to them.

" _RUN!_ " Haykov cried, somehow finding the breath to shout. He found himself in the back now as they fled up the stairs in single file. The faces lunged at them, screaming into their thoughts.

 _"They are coming...they are coming…"_

Haykov's lungs burned. His legs ached. But none of them stopped once they reached the top. Instead they kept going, racing back the way they had come. The panicked pounding of their feet filled the cave like drums. They dashed through the dark for what felt like centuries, scraping against the rough, rocky walls and bumping into each other with frightened cries.

At last, Haykov spied a faint red glow up ahead. "We're almost there!" he urged. "Go! We're almost out! I've got your backs!" Kerry took the lead, sprinting past Sheppard. Daylight, safe daylight, was within reach.

Then something blotted it out. A figure bounded into the cave, nothing more than a black silhouette against the blood-red sky. Kerry shrieked in alarm, but could not stop herself in time. She crashed into them full-force. The figure reeled backwards, tumbling out of the cave and over a ledge. Kerry teetered dangerously, her arms swinging like a windmill to keep from following.

"Kerry! No!" Sheppard grabbed one of her flailing arms and yanked her backwards. They fell to the ground together in a heap.

"Kerry! Sheppard!" Haykov cried. "Are you guys alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so," the young woman panted, clutching onto Sheppard as though her life still hung in the balance. "But...who was that?"

Their attention turned towards the ledge. Wind whipped up from below, but there was no shout, no cry for help. Sheppard pulled away from Kerry and crept towards the dropoff. He inched along slowly as though something might reach up and grab him at any moment. Haykov crouched cautiously and followed.

The desert below came into view. Clouds of dust swarmed across its surface. And there, dangling from a rock that jutted out of the cliff's side, hung a young woman. Raven-dark hair whipped around her face as she tried in vain to find a higher handhold.

"I don't...it can't...but she…" Sheppard sputtered. "CARMEN!"

The others scrambled to his and Haykov's side. "I didn't mean it, I swear!" Kerry exclaimed. "I didn't mean to push her over the edge!"

Sheppard cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hang on, Carmen!"

Her face turned up at the sound of his voice. "Sheppard?" she called.

"Don't worry! I've got you!" He swung his backpack to the ground and rifled through it hastily in search of a rope.

"No! Go away!"

Haykov looked over at the other young man with a wry grin. "Women," he scoffed.

Sheppard pulled a coil of rope from his bag. "Here," he shouted. "I'm going to throw you this-"

"I said go away!" she screamed. "Now! Get back into the cave!"

"Carmen, just-"

"It won't follow you there!" She kicked at the cliff wall frantically. At first, Haykov thought she was just trying to get a foothold. Then he realized that she was deliberately loosening chunks of rock and dirt, sending them plunging to the ground below.

"Holy hell!" Haykov sprang to his feet. For the rocks and dirt were landing on a massive cat-like creature. It growled, flicking its tail in irritation, as the earthen clumps broke over its head. Two yellowed fangs curved from its jowls. Its fur, fiery as a sunset, rippled with every move of its muscles. It climbed up the mountainside towards the hapless young woman, soft dirt crumbling beneath its paws at every step.

"Inside! Now!" Haykov barked. He shoved Orin and Kerry towards the mouth of the cave.

"But what about those things in there?" Kerry shrieked.

"What about the thing down _there_?" he countered. Kerry didn't look convinced, but turned and withdrew anyways.

Sheppard made no attempt to move. He stared back at Haykov resolutely. "I'm not leaving-"

"Hand me that rope," Haykov interrupted. "We'll pull her up together."

A grateful smile flickered across Sheppard's face. He handed Haykov one end of the rope and flung the rest over the edge. "Hold tight!" he ordered. "We're going to pull you up!"

"I told you to get out of-"

" _Quit wasting time and grab the rope already!_ "

Haykov gaped at his friend, usually so soft-spoken and mild. Carmen, too, looked up in amazement. Then she grabbed hold of the rope and wound it around her wrist without another word.

"Now, Haykov! Pull!" The two young men hoisted the rope in, hand over hand, grunting with the effort. They refused to slow down despite the fire that spread through their muscles. Sweat rolled down Haykov's temple. He was too far from the edge to see how close Carmen was. Or the cat creature.

But at long last, the top of her head came into view. Sheppard dropped down and looped his arms under hers, pulling her up and over the edge. Once she felt the ground beneath her feet again, she finally let go of the rope.

"Go!" she urged, not wasting a second. "It's right behind me!"

A hefty paw slammed over the ledge as if on cue. Haykov grabbed them both and pulled them into the cave. They ran and ran, not stopping until they were at least a hundred yards in. When they turned around again, their chests heaving for breath, they saw the creature prowling at the mouth of the cave. It paced back and forth, whining in frustration. Then, with a curt growl, it turned around and bounded gracefully away.

"Haykov, what the hell are you doing?"

Sheppard looked over at the sound of Carmen's voice. Haykov was hugging her from behind, squeezing her tightly against his chest as he sighed with relief. "You're alive! It didn't eat you! I'm just so happy-"

She hooked an arm beneath one of his and then pivoted, throwing him clean over her shoulder. He landed on the rocky, uneven ground with a splash of muddy water. "That was uncalled for," he groaned. "But also incredibly sexy."

Sheppard laughed, bending over his still-wobbly knees as a weight lifted from them all. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking up at the young woman.

"I'm fine, buddy," Haykov answered from the ground.

A faint smile pulled at Carmen's lips. "Yeah, I'll be alright."

"Wait, wait just a minute." Haykov climbed to his feet. "How did you know that thing wouldn't follow us here?"

"Because that's how the others escaped," she replied. "They made for the caves."

Haykov exchanged an unsettled glance with Sheppard. "Others?"

She nodded. Then she drew in a deep and troubled breath before speaking again: "We're not alone, you see."


	13. Ghost Stories

"Think it's been long enough?" Kerry asked, pacing restlessly. She threw an anxious glance towards the darkness that seemed to crouch behind them. The team had been waiting just inside the cave's entrance, giving the cat creature time to wander off in search of food elsewhere.

"No," Carmen answered flatly. She sat cross-legged on the rocky ground. "And why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" Kerry snapped.

"Looking behind you. Why were you guys running out of here so fast, anyways?"

Kerry bit her lip, looking to Haykov as if for help. Carmen could feel the frayed edges of their fear as easily as she could feel the ground beneath her. She turned her head and looked at Sheppard. "You saw something, didn't you?"

He grimaced. "I...I still can't explain it. Someone was singing-"

"Singing?"

"And then-"

"And then the Nokk Qoten appeared!" Orin interrupted.

Carmen blinked several times. "The what?"

"The Nokk Qoten," Kerry repeated. She sighed peevishly and folded her arms. "It's just a bunch of ghost stories. Didn't you ever take Interstellar Ethnology?"

Carmen's blank stare persisted. "Huh?"

"In secondary. Come on, that had to have been like yesterday for you."

The raven-haired woman's eyes narrowed at the slight. "I didn't go to secondary."

Kerry's jaw slackened. "What? Then how did you get into the Academy? Let me guess, it was because your dad was second in command-"

"I didn't go to the Academy, either."

While the others looked on, utterly puzzled, Sheppard's gaze softened. "It was because of the war," he interjected. "Right?"

Carmen nodded. "Education is a long-term investment. There was nothing long-term about being a child soldier."

Her words blanketed the group in a grim, heavy silence. Kerry turned away, her naturally rosy cheeks turning even more red.

"The Nokk Qoten are part of Bolian mythology," Sheppard explained after a time, gently breaking the silence. "They are spirits of the damned who return to take people in their sleep."

"Why?" Carmen inquired.

Orin answered her: "Because they do not want to suffer alone."

"Misery loves company, as they say," Haykov pitched in.

"They just take whoever they want?" Carmen rested her elbows on her knees, morbid intrigue shining from her ice-blue eyes.

"Well," Orin began. "It is said they can only touch those who are already on a path to condemnation."

Kerry rolled her eyes. "It's just a way of making sure children behave. Haven't you heard of Santa Claus and his naughty list? It's practically the same thing."

Haykov snorted. "Yeah, only instead of coal for Christmas, you get snatched away to the underworld. Did the Klingons have something like that?"

Carmen tilted her head to the side. "Well, Vullek once told me about creatures called the _Kos'Karii._ "

"The Kos'Karii?" repeated Orin, widening his eyes.

"Vullek?" repeated Haykov, narrowing his.

Carmen glanced at them both. "Vullek was my captain's nephew. And a fellow orphan. We sort of grew up together on his uncle's Bird-of-Prey." Her mouth pulled downward, trying to keep her composure from faltering. She cleared her throat lest her voice break against the lump that formed there. "He uh, he used to tell me all kinds of stories. The Kos'Karii, he said, were snake-like creatures. They would try to lure dishonorable souls by mimicking the voices of loved ones."

"See?" Kerry piped up. "Every culture has something like that. It's not the Nokk Qoten. Might as well have been the Kos'Karii down there."

"Those weren't snakes," Orin insisted. "Those were faces."

"Faces?!" Carmen stiffened. "You saw faces?"

Sheppard sucked in a breath as the image floated to the front of his mind. "Lots of faces. Coming out of the walls. And the same color as the walls. They were...they were saying something. Even though they didn't have mouths."

" _They are coming_ ," Orin recalled. "That's what I heard."

"Me, too." Haykov nodded.

A shiver ran down Carmen's spine. She sensed her team's fear burgeoning in the new silence that followed. She stood, suddenly restless, and brushed the dust from her uniform. "We should go. We need to pack up camp and move."

"What?" Haykov hoisted himself to his feet. "Why?"

"We need a better vantage point. Somewhere safer."

"You think those things can leave the cave?" Kerry asked, her voice small and frightened.

"No," Carmen answered, not bothering to elaborate. She walked in a half-crouch towards the mouth of the cave.

"Carmen, be careful!" Sheppard leapt to his feet, but she waved him back. Everyone held their breath as she stepped into daylight. Straining each of her senses, she searched for any sign of danger.

Kerry moved closer to Sheppard, casting him an anxious glance. But as Carmen neared the ledge, he broke away from the team and jogged towards her.

"See anything?" he asked, drawing up to her side.

"Not yet. And why aren't you waiting with the others?"

He tried to grin, but the attempt turned sheepish. "It was close back there, you know? Too close. I...I don't want anything to happen to you, that's all."

She studied him for a few seconds. Then a small, strange smile pulled at her lips. " _Nlteb qobqa djup 'e' chaw'be' suvwl_ ," she said.

Sheppard squirmed, unsure of whether to laugh, thank her, or run away. "Wh-what does that mean?"

"It's something Vullek used to say. Every battle, I found him at my side. 'A warrior does not let a friend face danger alone,' is what he'd tell me. So thank-you. For being at my side today."

"Oh, it's...yeah. No one should face danger alone. You know?" He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and turned away before she could see him blush. And somewhere, each felt a bond latching quietly into place.


	14. A New Place

**Zara08-LOL we'll be seeing some of that soon! Mwahahaha :-p**

 **Angel897-Thanks so much for your reviews :-)**

* * *

On the outskirts of the ancient city, a once-lavish home had been built directly into the encroaching mountainside. A row of windows, now gaping holes, lined the front wall. Long ago, they had offered a magnificent view of the desert metropolis. Now, the view was nothing but a haunting reminder of Zinor's desolation.

"It's freezing," Kerry remarked, turning away from the crumbling window. She waited with the others in the foremost room of the derelict house for Carmen to return from her patrol of their new shelter. "I say we start a fire."

"You heard Ensign Riker," Orin reminded her. "We don't want to make our location known."

"So she's calling the shots now?"

"You don't want the shadow people to come back, do you?" he persisted.

Kerry groaned. "I'm not even convinced they exist. I mean, she's the only one who's seen them."

"Not necessarily," Sheppard weighed in. He forced himself to recall the grisly scene at the bottom of the cliff. "That body we found-what if it was one of them?"

"I don't know. But she's hallucinated before, when she said she heard a battle. And remember how she woke up screaming bloody murder? Who's to say she actually saw something _this_ time?" Kerry turned a dour face to the young man. "And why do you keep calling her Carmen?"

Haykov, who had been leaning against one of the windowsills, straightened up. "Yeah, Sheppard. You never explained how she recognized you in the shuttle bay."

All attention turned towards him. He shifted on his feet. "I...uh...I saw her in Ten Forward a few times, sitting by herself. And then when we were docked in San Francisco, I stopped by a baseball game and she...well, she was sitting by herself again." He shrugged nervously when no one else moved to speak. "I just thought she was new like me and I was trying to be...you know, friendly. She never even told me her last name was Riker."

"In San Francisco..." Orin's eyes widened. "Wasn't she on trial then? I heard about that. Did she tell you why she was on trial?"

"No. We didn't talk about it at all," Sheppard replied, grateful at that moment that he didn't know more. The sudden intrigue in everyone's eyes made him uncomfortable.

"Do you think they put her on trial because of where she's from, or do you think she did something during the war? Something terrible?" Kerry glanced eagerly between the other listeners.

"It doesn't matter." Sheppard said, shaking his head. "Captain Picard knows her past. And he let her stay."

"I wonder if she knew me, back in her universe," Haykov said, stroking his chin. "I'll bet we were lovers there, too."

"Too?" Kerry scoffed.

"That probably explains the sexual tension between us." He smirked at the disgusted Kerry.

"That's just regular tension. Because you're an insufferable ass."

As the others snickered at their leader's expense, a clatter of rocks sounded from nearby. They simultaneously straightened, nervous and alert. Then a boot appeared on the windowsill next to Haykov and he jumped back in surprise.

The boot was soon followed by a cascade of familiar dark hair. Carmen planted her other foot on the sill, climbing her way in. In the light of late afternoon, the others could clearly see signs of a fight on her face. A bruise was darkening around a scrape on her cheek, and one eye looked slightly swollen.

"Don't you know where the front door is?" Kerry quipped.

Carmen leapt down, then turned around and sent her a quizzical look. "Yes, why?"

"Don't worry about it," Haykov chuckled, waving dismissively. "So what do you think? Are we safe here?"

"I didn't find anything. But the wind erases any tracks, so it's hard to tell. Still, with the mountain to our backs-and a view like this-it'd be hard for anything to sneak up on us."

"Then let's set up base," Haykov declared. "I call the master bedroom!"

"No, you should all stay in the same room," Carmen insisted. "It's safer that way."

"What about you?" Sheppard's eyes filled with sudden concern.

"I'm going to pitch a tent down there." She jerked her head towards a wide veranda below, where the shuttle rested.

"But you just said-"

"That way, if anything _does_ try to sneak up on us, they'll have to go through me first."

Orin tugged at the collar of his uniform. "You think they might show up-those, those shadow people that tried to take you?"

"I hope so," she said, her hands curling into fists. "If I see them again, I'd like to...I'm going to….v _ljah hoh ghopwlj ej ghurmoh tlha'..."_

Haykov shuddered with delight at her threats of violence. Orin, however, felt no better. "Did they even say what they were after?" he pressed.

"No. But they were leading me towards the north end of the city, before that cat thing showed up and they all scattered like frightened targ."

"We're on the south end, aren't we?"

"That's right," she answered. "And I'll be keeping watch, don't worry." With that, she started towards the door.

Sheppard immediately followed. "Carmen, wait-"

"Stay here, Sheppard. I need to get as much rest as I can before sundown." She sent him a stern look that made him halt in his tracks. Then a faint smile softened her severity. "Just...come wake me before you call it a night, okay?"

* * *

Carmen knew she had to sleep, but found herself fighting it. She feared seeing the Borg again. She feared feeling helpless again. Desperate, she reached out for the counselor, straining with all her might to cross the distance.

 _Carmen?_

A small, barely perceptible voice echoed across the expanse of her mind. Carmen tried to answer, but exhaustion wrapped around her senses like a fog, pulling her away.

 _Go to the falls, Carmen. Meet me at the falls._

Carmen trudged through the fog, searching for those familiar falls. It had become a haven for the young woman's troubled mind. Troi used to guide her to Janaran Falls as she fell asleep, and she would hide all night in that beautiful place, safe from her nightmares. She could always feel the counselor's presence there like a guardian, standing between her and the ghosts of her past.

Water. She felt water at her feet. Carmen looked down, about to cry out in relief, but found that it was not the crystal clear water of Janaran Falls. This water was frigid and still and black. And instead of a star-dappled sky, the rocky ceiling of a cave stretched overhead, perforated with red beams of light that forced their way through from the outside world.

"Counselor? Counselor, what is this place?"

A voice answered her, but it was not the counselor's. It sounded like a fearsome winter wind, bitter and howling. _This was once the Chamber of Hearts. See how we are alone now? See what they have done?_

"Who?" Carmen cried, shivering in the cold of the water. "What happened here?" An oppressive loneliness bore down on her, drowning all memories of warmth or affection. She fled from the water and from the loneliness, towards a staircase that had been carved into the cave wall. Then the voice spoke again.

 _They are coming…they are coming…_

"Who?!" she shouted, stumbling through the dark.

 _...for you. They are coming for you…_

A stony face appeared out of the wall. And then two greenish-gray hands shot out from below the face and grabbed hold of her shoulders.

"Carmen!"

"No!" she screamed. "Let me go! "

"It's okay, Carmen! It's me!"

She opened her eyes. Sheppard was kneeling at her side, his hands on her shoulders and deep lines of concern across his forehead.

"Are you awake?" he asked, unnerved by the blankness behind her eyes.

Carmen sat up and blinked several times, still trying to reclaim her bearings. "What are you doing here?" The question came out a little more brusquely than she intended.

"You...you...said to come wake you before we call it a night, remember? And, um...well...here." He set something on the ground in front of her. When she looked down, the smell of hot pancakes and maple syrup filled her nostrils. Its comfort, warm and familiar, seeped into her weary heart and chased away the last remaining remnants of her nightmare.

A grateful smile spread across her face. But when she looked up again, the young man had already withdrawn. "Sheppard! Wait!" she called.

To her relief, he appeared in the threshold of her tent. A halo of moonlight glowed behind him. "Yeah?"

Carmen drew in a deep breath. "Thank-you. And...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. The truth is...I get confused sometimes,when I wake up."

He nodded slowly, sympathetically. "Nightmares?"

" _Ramhaj_ ," she said, as if it would clear things up. It didn't. "The Klingons, that's what they called it. Haunted sleep. Counselor Troi said it's because of my Betazoid blood." Tucking the plate of pancakes in the crook of her elbow, Carmen half-crawled towards the young man. He moved hastily to the side, baffled as to where she was suddenly going. But she stopped just outside of the threshold of her tent and settled down again, making herself comfortable. Sheppard hesitated, then followed suit. He sat at her side so that they were shoulder to shoulder, facing the yellow moonlight that pooled over the desert.

"I...I think I get it," he said after a time. "The nightmares. I had them, too, after my dad's accident."

She looked over at him, searching his eyes. "How old were you?"

"Uh, five," he answered. "I mean...I've lived longer without him. Sometimes I have trouble just remembering his face. Remembering what it was like to have a dad. And yet, to this day, people come up and tell me how sorry they are that he's gone. He was...well, a lot of people knew him better than I did."

A trace of bitterness mingled with his final words, fading into the grief that weighed on Carmen's heart as if it were her own. She knew that kind of grief intimately. The feeling of standing in someone's shadow that loomed over her entire life, but whose face she never knew. Not until she met the counselor, anyways.

"What about you?" he asked. "How old were you?"

"Me? Oh. Well, I never knew my mother. Everyone on the Enterprise always talked about her. Everyone except for my father, it seemed. I was nine when he...when he was killed." It surprised her, how hard it was to force the words out.

"Is that when the nightmares started?"

She had just taken a rather large bite of pancake, so she had to wait a minute before she could answer. "No. Before that. The nightmares started when the war did. Seven."

"Seven?"

Carmen gulped down the rest of the food in her mouth. "I was seven. See, I didn't really have anyone to help me control my empathic senses. And after the first attack on our ship, I couldn't shut out all the fear, all the panic. So I started trying to bury my mother's side, trying to numb myself. I finally managed, but it took years." She laughed wryly. "Now the counselor is trying to bring it all back. But...I can't seem to control what comes back, and what stays behind me."

Pity flooded Sheppard's eyes. They looked almost purple in the ethereal light of the moons. They were so easy to read, like windows peering into his naked soul. There was a certain safety in that; a certain comfort in the transparency that came with his company. Carmen found herself appreciating it more and more. She studied him as he sat beside her, admiring his sand-dusted curls and the way they gently furled and unfurled in the wind. For a reason she did not understand, she felt the urge to run her hand through them.

Then he spoke again, bringing her back from that foreign place that her mind had wandered off to. "That's a long time to have ram-what was it called-ram-"

" _Ramhaj_ ," she laughed. "Yes."

"How did the Klingons deal with it? Did they help you?"

"It was the bloodwine that helped." Her devilish smile glinted in the moonlight. "Don't tell the commander, but I really miss that stuff."

A laugh burst from Sheppard. "Not to worry; I don't think the commander's interested in having a conversation with me." He leaned back onto his palms. "What about your crew? Do you miss your Klingon crew?"

Her smile waned sincere. "I miss things _about_ them. Their loyalty. Their honesty. The way everything was so straightforward, so black and white. It made things easier for me to understand, when there was so much about those years that I could never understand."

Again, pity gathered behind his eyes. "It must have been hard," he said, so softly that she barely heard him. "To be a human and an empath and a Klingon."

Carmen drew herself up defensively. "No. I was a warrior, that's all I was." She had meant to say it with pride, but somehow, it didn't come out the way she had intended. His pity swelled.

"Carmen, I'm...I'm sorry."

"Don't do that-"

"About the other night, I mean."

She tilted her head, confused. "What do you mean?"

"When you asked me about the others, and if they thought you were crazy. I should have been honest with you. I didn't want to hurt your feelings, I guess."

Looking down at her now-empty plate, Carmen sighed. "That's alright, Sheppard. They're your friends. You didn't want to implicate them. Besides, I already knew the truth; Kerry isn't exactly subtle."

"She isn't usually like this," he insisted. "She just...I don't know. She's nervous about you. About how you're...different. She thinks that you might be dangerous."

"I _am_ dangerous."

Sheppard laughed somewhat nervously. "I mean, that you might be a danger to...well, to us."

"That's fine. I don't care about her opinion. Only her safety." Carmen set her plate on the ground and stared at him hard. "What do _you_ think?"

"Me?" His eyes drifted to the desert while the thoughts turned in his head. "I think...I think that you're more human than you know. And I feel safe when I'm with you. Safer than I've ever felt."

Carmen's stare faltered, dropping to the ground and then flicking over to the dusty horizon. He had meant it. The sincerity that exuded from the young man's words soothed her empathic senses like a balm.

And for the rest of the night, even after he had returned to the house so she could begin her vigil, Carmen forgot all about Janaran Falls.


	15. Poker Face

**A/N: judygrasham-Aww thanks so much for the reviews! I was super excited to hear from you again! And that is an awesome bloodwine recipe haha. I must utilize that-you know, for research haha. ;-). Also, as far as Haykov goes, I have a rather delicious scene coming up. I think you'll enjoy it very much! Thanks again, for not only the reviews but also following along :-).**

* * *

In the center of Riker's living quarters sat a table. And around this table sat some of his closest friends, his dearest friends, all trying to out swindle each other. It had become their weekly tradition, and one of Riker's favorite pastimes.

"You're bluffing, Will," Troi said, tilting her chin up with a pretentious smirk.

"How much you willing to bet on that, _counselor?_ " he taunted.

"Well…" She glanced at the pile of poker chips before them. "I see your hundred. Let's go another fifty." She added to the mound.

"Why Deanna, that's a very generous contribution. Remind me to thank you after I win."

"Not so fast, commander." Crusher twirled a poker chip between her fingers. "I'm going to match Deanna's 'contribution.' And then raise it by ten."

Worf snarled, throwing his cards to the table. "Fold. Again. _Dor'sho'gah!"_

Riker smiled at him, infuriatingly smug. "Don't be mad; if it wasn't for your bad luck, you'd have no luck at all!" The Klingon scowled fiercely, muttering under his breath. But Riker's grin only widened. "I'm going to speed things up a little and add another...oh...two hundred to the stakes."

A murmur made its way around the table. Laforge whistled long and low. "Alright, alright. Let's see here…" He studied his cards carefully. "Hey counselor, how sure are you that he-counselor?"

An abrupt change had come over Troi. She gripped her cards tightly, staring right through them. Not a muscle in her body moved, not even to breathe. Riker rested a concerned hand on her knee. "Deanna?"

She jumped, startled free from her trance. "I uh...I'm sorry. Please excuse me for a minute." Laying her cards flat on the table, she pushed her chair out and stood.

"Is everything alright?" Crusher asked, her tone returning to that of a doctor.

"Yes, don't worry. It's just...I think Carmen needs me." Troi retreated into a quiet, empty bedchamber that branched off of the main living area. As the door swished closed behind her, all eyes turned to Riker.

He glanced from face to face in an imploring sort of way. At last, Laforge tossed his cards onto the table. "Go on," he urged. "We'll wait."

Riker flashed him a grateful smile. "Thanks," he said, climbing to his feet. "And Data-make sure no one peeks at my cards, will ya?"

Worf shifted restlessly in his chair as the commander withdrew from their company. "Why would Carmen need them?" he mused aloud. "When she's got my bat'leth?"

"Do you think something went wrong?" Crusher leaned forward, her eyes filling with palpable concern.

"I'm sure Carmen is just having a hard time...adjusting," Laforge assured them. "I mean, when's the last time you saw her hanging around people her age?"

A fond, motherly smile pulled at Crusher's lips. "Wesley was a lot like that. He used to write me all the time, back when he first joined the Academy. Now, I'm not even sure if he remembers that he _has_ a mother!"

While the others laughed, Data tilted his head to the side. "It is not likely that he would forget-"

"She was joking, Data," Laforge explained. "She was just talking about how kids go through this phase where they wake up one day and decide they don't need their parents anymore."

"Is that not the natural progression of life?"

"Well, it is," Crusher replied. But the thing is, it's impossible to stop being a parent just because your child outgrows their need for one. It's...challenging. For both sides."

"Ah." Data's head tilted the other direction as he processed the doctor's insight. Human nature was a fickle thing for the Android to grasp. Apparently, it was a fickle thing for some humans as well.

"Yeah, we all have to hit our stride," Laforge said, sinking back in his chair. "It just takes some longer than others."

"How do you think they'll handle it, when Carmen finally hits _her_ stride?" Crusher nodded towards the closed door, her smile turning sympathetic.

Laforge raised an eyebrow. "That's a good question, doctor. A good question."

"And I'll pose another one, while we're in a betting mood-" She stifled a laugh. "How long before Carmen beats up that Haykov fellow?"

* * *

Riker approached the counselor softly, slowly. She stood next to the corner of his bed, hands pressed against her temples in concentration. After several minutes, her arms dropped back to her sides with a huff of frustration.

"Is it her nightmares again?" he inquired.

Troi turned around to face him. "I..I don't know. She was almost there, but the connection...it's gone now."

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I don't like this-knowing that she needs me and not being able to do anything. She could be in danger right now, and we're up here playing poker?"

"I know," Riker commiserated. "Trust me, I know. But Carmen can take care of herself, remember? How many times have we heard that?"

Troi begrudgingly broke into a laugh. "Too many times."

"She doesn't like change, that's all," he continued. "And temporary as this is, it's still a change. New surroundings, new people. It'll be good for her in the long run. You'll see."

The smile that lingered on Troi's face turned wry. "You're bluffing again."

"Am I?" He smirked at the counselor, hoping to somehow mask the apprehension that tied his stomach into knots. It was not easy for him to sit on the sidelines, not even in regular duty. But this was far from regular duty; this was uncharted territory. He could say that it was good for Carmen, and he _knew_ that it was good for Carmen. But at the same time, he considered locking her up as soon as she got back and never letting her off the Enterprise again. "Anyways, two more days until they return. Then everything can go back to normal."

"Normal." Troi repeated the word with a curt laugh. "Funny, isn't it? None of this was normal just a few months ago."

"Still." Riker cupped her face in his hands and tilted it upwards. "I wasn't bluffing when I said that I like it. That I like...us."

She beamed back at him. "I like us, too," she whispered, rising onto the balls of her feet to meet his lips. But as soon as their kiss began, the door opened.

"Hey, are you guys alrigh-" Laforge froze just inside the frame. They pulled away from each other in a hurry. "Well...I guess that answers my question."

"Geordi! Uh, hey! We were just on our way out!" The commander clapped his hands together sheepishly.

"We just-it's that-we-" Troi fumbled for words, but Laforge waved her off.

"It's alright, counselor," he assured. "You don't have explain yourself to me. It's not like this is a scandal. Or even a secret."

Riker's eyes narrowed. "Wait-it isn't?"

Laforge grinned, looping his thumbs into his belt. "Come on, commander. We've been working together how long?"

Riker and Troi exchanged a guilty glance. "Think the others know?" the counselor asked.

"Probably."

"What about Carmen?"

Laforge's grin faded. "You mean you haven't told her?"

"Well...no," Troi admitted. "We haven't told anyone."

"Oh boy." Laforge shook his head and blew out a sigh.

"What do you mean _oh boy_?" Riker demanded.

"You know Carmen. She's...well, she's kind of delicate."

"Carmen?" Riker balked. "No way. She's not exactly a shrinking violet."

"Not delicate like a flower." Laforge shook his head again. "Delicate like...like a bomb. She won't be happy that you've been keeping her in the dark for so long."

"And how do _you_ know how long it's been?" The commander folded his arms and glared at him defensively.

"Let me guess, since San Francisco?"

Riker's jaw slackened. "Too long," he mumbled.

Troi's head whipped towards him. "Excuse me?"

"He asked me how long we've been working together. The answer is too long."


	16. Falling Prey

Flurries of dust filled the air, making it difficult to tell which was land and which was sky. The foothills rose like eerie, monstrous shapes through the blood-red light of morning. Haykov led his team along these foothills. To their right, ruins of the city lay scattered across the desert floor. To their left, a vast and sandy nothingness. They plodded along in single file, heads bent down to shield their faces from the bitter wind.

"How much farther?" Kerry shouted. As much as she feared setting foot in a cave again, the wind and the sand and the storm were wearing her patience thin.

Carmen's eye followed the rolling silhouette of the foothills. "We need to get closer to the mountains. Shouldn't be too much long-"

"I was asking Haykov. Didn't they tell you he was in charge?" Kerry snapped.

Sheppard turned around, one eyebrow raised. "She's right, Kerry. The caves begin where the mountains do. We'll be there soon."

Orin caught up to the young man's side. "Do you really think we should be doing this?" he asked. "Going back into the caves, after what happened last time?"

"That was on the other side of the range, remember? And the...the faces...they stayed down in that chamber."

"Chamber?" Carmen echoed.

"Yeah." Sheppard's face drew together in thought. "We followed the cave down to this big chamber of some kind. It looked like maybe the Zinorians built it."

"Why do you say that?"

"There were stairs," Orin pitched in. "But we didn't even make it to the bottom before...before…"

"Was there a lake?" she asked, her foreboding nightmare still fresh in her mind.

Sheppard's eyes flew wide. "How did you know that?" Orin, too, looked over with his mouth ajar.

Carmen hesitated, glancing at Kerry and Haykov's backs as they trudged ahead. Then, stepping closer to the other two, she lowered her voice and explained. "Maybe my _ramhaj_ hasn't returned, after all. Maybe this is something else."

"Like what?" Sheppard asked.

"Ramhaj?" Orin asked.

"Hey look!" Haykov's shout interrupted their exchange. He and Kerry had stopped, facing away from the ruins of the city. At the bottom of the steep slope, the dusty landscape was dotted with small, dark shapes. To Carmen's surprise, the shapes appeared to be moving.

"What is that?" Orin exclaimed. He inched close to the young woman, gripping the straps of his bag nervously. But a strange smile curled her lips as she studied the sight.

"Life," she said. "Just when you think you're alone…life has a way of being found. The commander told me that once."

A smile made its way across Sheppard's face, too. The shapes were a herd of horse-like creatures, he realized. Their copper colored fur rippled with every step as they milled about the scattered boulders in search of shrubs. Long manes flowed from the graceful arch of their necks, streaked with varying shades of blonde. There was something soothing and reassuring about their presence.

"God, I miss horseback riding," Kerry said, climbing atop a large rock and inching towards its edge for a better view. "And Bella. Remember Bella, Sheppard?"

He smiled wryly. "I remember her ripping my favorite jacket."

"She thought you were hiding an apple!" Kerry laughed. "You know how much horses love apples!"

"You've ridden a horse before?" Carmen asked the young man.

"Yes," Kerry answered for him. "At my family's ranch. When was that, between our second and third year at the Academy?"

"Uh...yeah, I think so."

Carmen looked down at her feet. Something sharp pricked in her chest, something new and uncomfortable. _Why should it bother me, if he had a fun summer on a beautiful ranch somewhere?_ she scolded herself. Then she realized, it wasn't the beautiful ranch that bothered her. It was the beautiful young woman.

Her eyes darted furtively over to Kerry. She was attractive, by anyone's standards. Her golden hair made neat little curls as it hung from a tidy ponytail. Her eyes sparkled with nostalgia as she gazed at the herd, softening the delicate features of her face. The lines of her body curved gently beneath her uniform in a pleasing, feminine way.

And suddenly, Carmen felt overly aware of the scrapes and bruises that marred her own face. Of the way her body was too lean to inspire the same softness, the same curves.

"I think you'd like it." Sheppard's voice pulled her from her wallowing thoughts. She realized that his attention was fixed on her now instead of the creatures below.

"What?"

"Horseback riding. I think you'd like it." His hands fidgeted inside of his jacket pockets. He drew in a deep breath, summoning courage. "Hey um, maybe...you know...the holodeck…"

But Carmen's attention had shifted to something behind him. "Kerry!" she shouted suddenly. "Move!"

The others whipped around just in time to see something reddish and hairy hurl itself at the young woman. Kerry cried out in pain as its teeth sank into her upper arm. She reeled backward, stumbling closer to the edge of the rock and towards the steep drop below while she tried desperately to shake the beast off.

"Kerry, no!" Carmen cried, her hand flying to her phaser. With a grimace, she remembered that her phaser-as well as her bat'leth-had been taken by the shadow people. Then three more menacing silhouettes appeared, growling from atop a nearby boulder.

"Over there, too!" Orin gasped. Four more creatures were closing in from their other side. They looked like mangy, medium-sized dogs with wiry red fur and wicked yellow eyes. They frothed at the jowls, snarling and snapping as they crept closer and closer to the frightened young officers.

Then Kerry stumbled over the edge with a yelp. Both she and the dog went tumbling down the slope. Fear rooted Sheppard's feet to the ground. But not Carmen. She streaked past him, throwing herself down the hillside after them.

The rest of the beasts surged forward. They were met with a flurry of phaser fire. "We have to hold them off!" Sheppard cried, his heart thundering against his chest. He didn't dare look away, for every time one of the creatures fell to the ground, stunned, another set of rabid jaws took its place.

* * *

Kerry's arms flailed out wildly, searching for something to hold onto. Finally she felt the spiny branch of a bush within her grasp. Its needles dug into her palm as she clutched the branch tightly and her fall came to a bone-jarring halt.

The dog's pained, punctuated cries continued down the slope. Once they stopped, all Kerry could hear was the chaos of shouts and snarls and phaser fire from above. She squeezed her eyes shut, unsure of what to do. Perhaps it would be safer to go down rather than up.

Slowly, Kerry cracked one eye open. Then she screamed. For the dog was limping back up the hillside, globs of bloody drool dripping from its teeth and a crazed, hungry glint in its eyes.

"Don't look down!" someone shouted. "Look at me!"

The voice filled Kerry with relief, dire as her situation still was. She turned her face towards a young woman with dark hair who hurried deftly down the slope. "Ensign Riker! Help!"

"Climb! You have to climb!" she ordered.

But Kerry found that her hands would not let go. "I can't!" she cried.

"You can! Put your feet beneath you! Now!"

Kerry dug her toes into the side of the slope, whimpering as a clump of dirt crumbled beneath her boots. "I'll fall!"

"Try, damnit!" Carmen was close now, so close she could almost reach her. But the creature was also close, its frenzied snarls growing more and more fervent. "Now, Kerry!"

Kerry let go out of the branch. She threw herself towards a rock that protruded from the hillside and clung onto it with a frightened cry.

"Yes! Good! Keep going!"

Heartened, Kerry looked around for the next handhold. She reached for another rock, and then another, making her way up to the young woman slowly. Too slowly.

"Kerry," Carmen said, her face drawn taut and resolute. "Keep climbing. No matter what. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes. Why?" Kerry gulped. But Carmen did not answer. Instead, she kicked away from the steep hillside, leaping over Kerry's head and down onto the rabid dog's back.


	17. Getting Fixed Up

**A/N: Bnewall1-LOL! I didn't even think of that, haha!**

 **Angel897-Love that you are enjoying it so far! :-)**

 **Judygrasham-Haha definitely true about Kerry! But Carmen is used to working with frightened children ;-). You will definitely be seeing more of Orin, too!**

* * *

One by one, the dog creatures turned tail and ran off in search of easier prey. As the last two galloped away, dodging Haykov's phaser beam, he breathed a sigh of relief. "I think that's it. You guys okay?"

Orin and Sheppard looked shaken, but unharmed. While Orin bent at the waist, catching his breath, the other young man raced worriedly to the slope's edge.

"Help! Please!" someone wailed. It was Kerry, clambering up the steep hillside.

"I'm coming!" Sheppard called.

"No-help _her!_ " Kerry craned her neck to look below. Sheppard followed her gaze. His chest tightened with dread. At the bottom of the slope, a human leg bent out from beneath one of the creatures, which sprawled lifelessly over the dirt.

"Carmen! Carmen, can you hear me?" he bellowed. The leg did not move.

"Grab her, Sheppard. I've got you." He felt Haykov's hand wrap around his arm. Then he leaned down and reached for Kerry, who reached for him in kind. Once his hand had firmly clasped hers, he pulled her to safety. All the while, Haykov kept him anchored in place.

"You have to-someone has to-please, go down there!" Kerry pleaded.

" _Look!_ " Orin pointed below, aghast. Sheppard held his breath. The body of the dog shifted side to side, slowly rising.

Kerry recoiled even farther from the edge. "It's-it's still alive!"

"No-wait!" Haykov cried. The dog's body slumped to one side. And from beneath it, Carmen appeared, hoisting herself into an upright position.

The breath that Sheppard had been holding flew from his chest. He leapt down the hillside, half-running, half-stumbling. The sand slid from under his feet, threatening to take him with it. But he pressed on, making his way closer and closer to the bottom. At long last, he reached Carmen.

"Are you alright?" he asked, dropping to his knees at her side. She blinked up at him slowly, still disoriented. Dust coated her face and wounds. Blood dripped from several long gashes that scored her neck and jaw.

"My...leg…"

Her left leg twisted beneath her. Sheppard ground his teeth together. "Ahh...it's...yeah, it's broken. But Kerry has an osteogenic stimulator in her medkit, I could go get-" He glanced up and saw the others, even Kerry, making their way down. "Hey look! They must have been right behind me! We'll have you fixed up in no time."

"And the...the dog things?" She shivered as she spoke. Sheppard wasn't sure if it was from the cold or from the shock.

"They're gone, don't worry." He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Sheppard…"

"What is it?" Gently, he pulled her long, dark hair free from the collar and let it fall down her back.

"I thought this was going to be a boring old away mission."

A laugh broke through his concern. "To tell you the truth...I did, too."

"The counselor tried to warn me, you know. She said there was no such thing."

"I guess we learned our lesson, huh?"

Carmen chuckled. "Yeah. And Worf is going to kill me when he finds out I lost his bat'leth."

"Well, I'll remember to recite that prayer for you every day-what's it called, the Plea for the Dead?"

Her eyes filled with surprise. "How did you know about that? It's a Klingon custom!"

"Interstellar Ethnology."

They both laughed heartily. It dulled Carmen's pain in a soothing sort of way.

"Riker!" Kerry's voice rang out. She raced over to the young woman and threw her bag to the ground. "What were you thinking? Are you crazy?"

"What happened, anyways?" Haykov asked, trying not to stare at Carmen's grotesquely twisted leg as he reached the bottom of the slope.

Kerry dug around for her medkit. "She just...she jumped right on top of that thing. What was your plan, to kill it with your bare hands?"

"Pretty much," Carmen quipped. "Though my _daqtagh_ came in handy." She nodded towards the hilt of a small knife protruding from the underside of the dog's throat.

"Well that was…" Kerry's face softened, only for a moment. "That was pretty stupid of you."

"Kerry!" Sheppard rebuked her sharply, but both women ignored him.

"Course I wouldn't have _had_ to save your life if you could climb," Carmen countered. "What, they didn't offer a course for that at the Academy?"

Sheppard and Haykov glanced at each other nervously, unsure of how to intervene. Then, to their surprise, the two women burst out laughing. Haykov's eyebrows arched.

"What's happening?" he whispered. Sheppard merely shrugged, just as confused.

"Hey, hey, hold still!" Kerry chided as their laughter trickled off. She held the osteogenic stimulator in one hand. "You're harder to treat than those wriggly kids who come in to sickbay."

"You sound like Dr. Crusher," Carmen grumbled.

"Why, thank-you!" Kerry pulled her shoulders back with pride. "And you remind me of Worf. Only with less facial hair." Again, both women laughed. This time, the young men joined in as well.

* * *

It wasn't long before Kerry finished tending Carmen's wounds. Then Sheppard helped her clean out the bite on her own arm and wrap it securely in a bandage. As they were finishing up, Haykov rose to his feet. His mood had dampened, and it wasn't until then that Carmen realized their leader had fallen strangely silent.

"I think...I think it's time to call it quits," he said, facing the group with a dejected air. "We should go back, pack up camp."

"What?" Kerry exclaimed, jumping up. "We haven't gotten any data yet! This trip will have been a total failure-"

"We've had too many close calls. We should return to the Enterprise while we're all in one piece."

"No, Haykov." Carmen climbed to her feet, too, wincing as some residual pain shot up from her leg. "We came here with a mission. Let's do what we can with the time we have left."

Haykov turned to Sheppard and Orin. "What's your vote?"

Sheppard spoke first. "The caves aren't too far off. And it's still early in the day..."

The Bolian, however, wavered. His eye drifted to the dead dog, then over to the raven-haired young woman. "I'm with her," he finally decided. "If she says we should stay, then we should stay."

Carmen smiled at him appreciatively, a smile that he readily returned. Haykov clapped his hands together and blew out a heavy sigh. "Alright, kids. Let's get to work then."

"Don't start that again!" Kerry groaned.

"What?" Haykov feigned innocence as they began trekking back up the hillside.

"The whole 'kids' thing. There's still time for me to stage an accident, you know. Hey Riker, let me bounce a few ideas off you…"

More laughter drifted up. The fright of their experience faded into the distance. And in its place, a certain solidarity took hold, strengthening as surely as the sun in the alien sky.


	18. Standing on Ceremony

The caves on this side of the range were different. Dusty and dry, they looked more like barren holes drilled into the side of the mountain. Each tunnel connected to another, sometimes two or three others, creating an intricate system of passageways. Every once in awhile the team stumbled across a large, carved out space of some kind. But nothing like the chamber they had found before, with the lake and the faces.

Sheppard had been briefed by Lieutenant Laforge about what to look for, so he directed the team when it came to staging the location of each testing site. It was a tedious, drawn-out process that lasted far into the day. Orin's innate grasp of technology helped tremendously when it came to collecting samples. Haykov and Kerry worked as hard as they could to make up for lost time. And all the while, Carmen patrolled between each site with an ever watchful eye.

Diligent as they worked, their recent experiences hovered in their mind. Every noise startled the skittish crew. A sense of fear would rise up like an ocean around Carmen. All eyes would dart towards her, and then, to her surprise, the fear would recede from the shores of her empathic senses. _They trust me_ , she realized. Her very presence proved enough to soothe their frayed nerves.

Afternoon came and went. The sun sank lower in the dusty sky, its bottom edge flattening along the horizon. Haykov wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and turned to Sheppard, who was recording numbers on a PADD nearby.

"What do you think? Should we call it a day?"

Sheppard's eyebrows knit together as he looked over the data on his screen. "I don't get it. These kind of conditions should be good for dilithium deposits. But all the samples we've obtained...they aren't the least bit promising. I'm afraid this mission might have been a failure after all."

Footsteps crunched over the rock-strewn ground. Both men looked up to find Carmen making her way towards them. The dying sun's light wrapped around her edges, creating a dusky, darkened silhouette. Sheppard smiled gently. His concerns about the mission suddenly fell by the wayside.

His smile elicited one of her own. "Hey," she greeted. "Kerry and Orin want to know if they should pack up now or if we're going to look for more sites."

"That's okay, I think we're done," he replied, glancing back at Haykov for confirmation. But Haykov was busy opening a wrapper of some kind.

"What? Oh, yeah. We're done. Hungry, anyone?" he held up the wrapper. "I brought some extra peanut butter bars."

Carmen looked at the bar, wholly uninterested, then turned to Sheppard once more. "So did you get the data you needed?"

He blew out a disappointed sigh. "Not exactly. I don't think these caves will be of any interest to the lieutenant."

"Hmm…" She mulled over his dismay. "Well what about the caves on the other side? They looked different. Did you get any samples before those things appeared?"

"Uh, no."

Haykov's chewing paused. "You don't think...should we?"

Carmen shrugged. "It's your call. But I don't think we should leave until we can give Geordi a definitive answer about whether or not there's dilithium."

"Yeah...good point." Haykov tugged at the hem of his jacket. "Maybe if we went first thing in the morning. I'm too bushed tonight."

"In the morning? But what about the storm?" Sheppard glanced nervously at the fading light outside the cave, then back at Haykov. "And what about...the Nokk Qoten, or whatever they were?"

Carmen sensed a surge of concern at his mention of the cave-dwelling beings. "Don't worry," she interjected. "The storm doesn't peak 'til midday. And _I'll_ be with you this time." An unwonted gentleness accompanied her reassurances.

Haykov's eyes darted suspiciously between her and the young man. "Well _anyways_ ," he said loudly, clearing his throat as he slung his bag over his back. "We better go fill in the others. You guys coming?"

* * *

The storm had picked up, making the long trek back even longer. Dark had descended by the time they returned to their mountainside refuge. The sight of it, looming before them like a gentle giant, reminded them all of how weary they were. Especially Carmen. The long, jagged marks across her neck left by the dog creature stung in the sand that whipped around them.

She shifted the bag on her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. "I should get my rest. It's late, and I have to start my watch soon."

At her side, Sheppard's face fell. Carmen felt a sharp tinge of disappointment from the others as well.

"But you have to eat, too," Kerry piped up. "Why not have some dinner with us first?"

Orin perked at the suggestion. "Have you ever eaten Braq'ta before? I'm told it tastes a lot like Klingon gagh-"

"Orin, you know humans are literally incapable of eating that stuff, right?" Kerry retorted.

"If this is going to be our last dinner on Zinor," Haykov weighed in. "Then it has to be something special." He pondered for a moment, then rubbed his hands together briskly. "How about I program the replicator to make nana's birthday sloppy joes. Yeah?"

"Who is nana?" Orin asked. "And what are birthday sloppy joes?"

Carmen laughed, glad that she was not the confused one for once. "Sloppy joes sound fine. Come on, let's get out of this wind."

* * *

A short time later, the team sat huddled around a lantern on the dry, barren floor of the foremost room. Carmen eyed her sandwich as meat and sauce dripped down to her plate.

"Just try it," Haykov urged. "At least you don't have to kill anything first."

Sheppard laughed through his own bite of sloppy joe. "He's right, you know-these are pretty good."

Carmen nodded, then drew the sandwich up to her mouth. The smell was tantalizing; it made her stomach grumble, reminding her of how empty it was. She took her first bite. "Haykov…" she said slowly. "This is... _amazing!_ " The rest of her sandwich was downed at a velocity that left the others, particularly Haykov, marveling.

"Would you like another one?" he offered, a little out of breath. She nodded, tilting her plate towards her mouth to finish cleaning it off.

Kerry clicked her tongue. "Don't suppose the Klingons taught you table manners?"

Carmen wiped a sleeve across her sauce-covered chin, then grinned sheepishly. "No. But they did teach me how to appreciate a good supper."

"Amen to that!" Haykov said, scooping up another sandwich from a plate that had been mounded high with them and passing it over to the young woman.

"What else did they teach you?" Kerry asked, crossing her legs and leaning over them eagerly. "Did you have to participate in any of those weird ceremonies?"

"Weird ceremonies? No," Carmen replied. "Just the usual ones." When her answer elicited a round of laughter, she looked up from her sandwich in confusion.

"Speaking of ceremonies," Orin said, drawing himself closer to the circle of young officers. "Is it true that at Klingon weddings, the guests have to attack the bride and groom?"

"Yes, but they are only allowed to use pugil sticks. Nothing lethal." Once again, the others laughed. And once again, Carmen found herself puzzled by their reaction. "What about Bolian weddings?"

"Oh, they are not very lavish. Or ceremonial," Orin answered.

"But very frequent!" Haykov chuckled.

Carmen tilted her head towards their leader. "What do you mean by that?"

"You mean-? You don't know?"

She glanced over at Sheppard for help. He cleared his throat. "Bolians...uh...can have multiple husbands and wives."

"You mean…" Her eyes widened incredulously. " _At a time?_ " Her sandwich slipped from her fingers, landing on her plate with a wet-sounding plop. Sheppard bit down on his cheek, trying hard not to laugh at her shock.

"I think it's pretty open-minded, myself," Haykov said, straightening his legs out in front of him and reclining back onto his palms.

Kerry snorted. "Yeah, good luck finding even _one_ wife, Haykov."

He shrugged, taking the slight in stride. "Maybe I've just been fishing in the wrong pond. Maybe I should find me a Bolian. Or a Klingon. So Riker…" He looked pointedly at the young woman. "How does one woo a Klingon, anyways?"

"Lots of roaring, I think." This time, she laughed along with the rest of her team.

"I don't know, Haykov," Kerry retorted. "I've heard that Klingons are too...robust."

"For human females, maybe. I'm not worried."

"Is that true?" Orin asked, wide-eyed and awe-stricken.

Carmen shrugged. "Depends on the woman."

Sheppard choked on a bite of his sandwich. He thumped a fist against his chest, trying to clear his airway. But no one seemed to notice. Kerry pushed her empty plate aside and clasped her hands together in her lap, gathering enough nerve to ask the question that lingered on everyone's mind.

"So have _you_ ever….you know…"

A deafening silence blanketed the group. Carmen's head whipped up, bewildered by the sudden, intense change. "Ever what?"

Orin was the only one willing to elucidate. "She wants to know if you've ever mated with one," he explained casually.

"Oh!" Her cheeks turned beet red. "Um, not exac-no. I mean no."

Kerry narrowed her eyes. "What kind of an answer was that?"

"I haven't," Carmen said, firmly this time. The tone of her voice discouraged anyone else from pressing her further. Sheppard wasn't sure if he felt relieved about that or not.

But he did feel a pang of pity for the way she pursed her lips and the way her shoulders sank beneath some unseen weight, some unspoken memory. He searched his mind for a way to change the subject. "So was it the Klingons who taught you how to throw Haykov like that?"

"She threw Haykov?" Kerry repeated, lighting up. "And I missed it?! Hey, could you show _me_ how to do that?"

Carmen smiled at Sheppard slowly, gratefully. "Sure," she conceded. "But then I should really get some rest." She stood up, dusting the dirt from her uniform. "Haykov, I need you."

Haykov scrambled to his feet, falling over himself in his haste. "I've been waiting for you to say that!"

"Now grab me from behind, just like you did in the caves." She turned her back to him and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, a devilish grin plastered to his face.

"See how my knees are bent?" Carmen said to the others. "You want them to stay that way. That's going to give you the power you need. Your hips should be parallel with theirs, and snug."

" _Very_ snug," Haykov said, wagging his eyebrows.

"Next, you need to underhook one of their arms. Like this." Carmen's right arm snaked back until the crook of her elbow was beneath his armpit. Her other hand reached up and grabbed his sleeve down near the wrist.

Haykov leaned closer to her ear. "The sexual tension between us right now is-"

Carmen twisted suddenly and he sailed over her right shoulder, landing flat on his back with a groan. A plume of dust rose around him, lingering briefly in the air before dissipating into the dark.

"Why do you still have a hold of his sleeve?" Kerry inquired.

"Because I need it for the armbar," Carmen answered. Her leg lashed out suddenly, kicking the side of his face. Her other leg extended over his chest, pinning him down. Then she pulled his arm taut and hipped up, inverting his elbow as he howled in pain.

"Or-" She let go and clambered atop him, straddling his chest. "You can go for the top position."

Haykov's grin returned. "I like this much better."

"You can throw punches from here-" She demonstrated with a quick right-handed cross. "Or you can go for a choke." She grabbed the right side of his collar with her left hand, wound her other arm around his head, and pulled her elbows back. Haykov's face went from pink to red to purple within a matter of seconds. "If you put your head down, near their ear, it makes it much more effective." As Carmen proved this last point, a strange noise gargled up from Haykov's throat.

"Ha! That's pretty great!" Kerry exclaimed, enjoying every second of the young man's suffering. "But could you show us the part where you throw him again?"

Carmen grinned. "Sure!" She grabbed Haykov roughly by the collar and dragged him to his feet. Before he could even regain his balance, Carmen threw him back down to the ground.

"Wait, wait-I didn't quite catch that last detail, with the arm. One more time."

Haykov wheezed, still lying in the dust. "Alright Kerry, I know what you're-"

"Get up," Carmen ordered.

"Yes ma'am." He scrambled obediently to his feet. Carmen started to get into position, then paused.

"Actually, why don't you give it a try, Kerry?" she suggested.

"Good idea!" The blonde-haired woman hopped over eagerly.

Haykov wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. "If you wanted a hug, all you had to do was-" Kerry executed the throw with a deftness and precision that surprised even herself.

"Kerry, you're a natural!" Carmen praised. "Now finish him!"

"What? No!" Haykov covered his head as Kerry slammed on top of him, her fists flying. The others watched, laughing with sheer delight.

"Excellent job!" Carmen extolled. "But I think that's enough for now. Kerry? Kerry!" A new round of laughter rose up as she struggled to pry the young woman away.

Haykov sat up, shaking the dirt from his hair. "Okay, full disclosure...that wasn't nearly as sexy as I thought it was going to be."

Kerry planted her hands on her hips and blew out a satisfied sigh. "Thanks, Riker. I think I needed that."

Sheppard smiled, glancing at each of the beaming faces around him. His gaze lingered on Carmen last, who almost seemed like a different person than the one they had seen back in Ten Forward. "Yeah. I think we all did."


	19. Bravery

Carmen listened to the wind whipping over her tent as she waited for sleep to snatch her away. What would be waiting for her tonight in the dark recesses of her mind, she wondered. The Borg? The shadow people? What kind of terrible things would she forced to watch all over again?

Like a poison, fatigue seeped into her senses. Her eyelids fluttered, losing the battle to stay open. The desert faded away and she found herself stumbling through the familiar halls of a Klingon ship. Emotions churned violently in her chest, much like the bloodwine in her stomach. Carmen lurched to a stop in front of one of the doors, staring at it scornfully. "Damn you, Vullek," she muttered. Then she began to pound heavily upon the door. "Vullek!" she shouted. "Face me, Vullek!"

The door slid open. Carmen recoiled in bewilderment. For beyond the threshold, she saw neither Vullek nor his quarters. Instead, she saw a cavernous chamber. A narrow flight of stairs had been carved into one wall. The floor sloped down, disappearing beneath a black lake. And someone was singing.

Fear pricked along her skin as she stepped out of the memory and through the doorway. Though the melody was a beautiful one, meant to be soothing, it chilled her to the bones. "Who's there?" she called, forcing her feet forward.

A child whimpered nearby. It was a boy, cradled in his mother's arms. He clutched a clay figurine in his hands that had been shaped to look like a four-legged animal. His mother rocked him back and forth as she sang to him, trying to mask the terror that filled her cat-like green eyes.

"What is it?" Carmen asked, kneeling before them. "What are you so afraid of?"

The mother's eyes locked onto something behind Carmen. Her singing died in her throat. She pulled the boy closer, turning him away lest he see the danger for himself. Carmen whipped around angrily. What sort of evil would prey upon a defenseless mother and child?

The silhouette of a figure stood in the dim red light. Carmen stepped towards it, fists clenched at her sides. "Show yourself!" she demanded.

 _They took our beloveds._ A voice drifted across the cavern, moaning like the wind. _We have seen them in your past. And in your future._

Carmen glanced about wildly, searching for the source of the voice. The mother and child had disappeared. So had the menacing silhouette. "Who are you?" she cried.

 _You are a guardian, like us. To lose those whom you protect...to lose your beloveds…we take pity upon you._

Her heart thundered in her chest at the ominous words. "Are you talking about what has already happened, or what _will_ happen?"

 _Leave this place. They are coming for you...they are coming…_

The figure reappeared suddenly. It sought to grab hold of her, but she fought back, clawing at its face. A black mask was torn away in the scuffle.

"You!" she hissed, backing away with such haste that her foot struck a rock and she tumbled to the ground. "I-I killed you!"

Commander Wharton gazed back at her dolefully. "I take pity upon you," he said. "Better to die…"

* * *

"Carmen? Can you hear me, Carmen?" She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard someone's voice trying to coax her awake. "Come on, please wake up."

Her eyes bolted open. She looked up into a young man's familiar face. Chestnut brown curls hung over his forehead. "Sh-Sheppard?" she gulped.

"Hey." He sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief. "I was getting worried there."

"Worried?"

"It took awhile to wake you up. Was it ramhaj again?"

"Ramhaj…" She sorted through the jumbled mess in her mind. "It started out that way, yes. But then...I was in that chamber again."

"You were?" His eyes widened. He stretched his legs out in front of him and clasped his hands together as they hung over his knees. "What happened?"

Carmen hesitated. "I think...I think something down here is preying on my fears. That's all." That _had_ to be all, she told herself.

He nodded slowly, waiting to see if she would expound. Then he noticed a dark stain on the collar of her nightshirt. "Carmen-you're bleeding!"

One of her hands flew to her neck, which she suddenly realized felt hot and wet. When she pulled her fingers back, their tips were covered in crimson.

"Hold on, let me find something." Sheppard turned to a nearby bag and opened the flap.

"In the...um...the front pouch," she instructed. He unzipped the front pouch and pulled out a cloth.

"Got it. Now lay back down," he ordered, ignoring her outstretched hand.

"I can do it myself."

"I know. Lay back down." He smiled at her, benevolent but unrelenting.

She conceded with a grumble. As she tilted her chin back, he pressed the cloth against her wound. "This is from that dog thing, isn't it?"

"Yes. I must have done something in my sleep to open it up again." Her eyes flicked over to him, accompanied by a smirk. "Dr. Crusher will give me an earful when we get back to the Enterprise."

He chuckled softly. "Well, what you did back there...saving Kerry and all...that was pretty brave."

"You would have done the same."

Sheppard froze. "Me? Oh...I don't know about that. I mean, I got scared just on the flight down, remember? And my dad was a pilot!" His smile turned wry.

"You weren't scared of that cat monster."

"Yes I was," he insisted. "I was just...I guess I was more scared for you."

"Well that's how bravery works sometimes." In the dim, reddish light of the moons, her face beamed up at him. Cuts and bruised marred its surface, but even they could not dull its gentle glow. "So you're dad was a pilot?"

"Hmm?" The moonlight on her face had momentarily derailed his thoughts. "Oh, yeah."

"What about your mother?"

"Botanist." A distant fondness crept into his eyes. "She was always fascinated by plants and flowers. Loved orchids the best. We had them all over the house, even on the stairs." He laughed softly to himself.

"Orchids? The counselor has some of those in her office!"

Sheppard's smile grew. "I know."

"You know the counselor?"

"Mmhmm. Been seeing her about once a month. Just to...help with the adjustment, I guess. I didn't really have time to process a lot of things at the Academy. My mom...she passed away right before my first semester, you see."

Carmen's gaze softened. "Well she's great for that sort of thing, isn't she?" The young woman realized then just how much she missed Troi and her soothing company. Especially now that her nightmares had returned.

"Was your mom like that?" Sheppard's eyes drifted between the cloth he still held to the side of her neck and her steely blue eyes.

"I...I like to think so. Something happened to her when I was just a baby. I never got the chance to know her."

"Oh. I'm sorry." He bit the corner of his lip. "Um...what about others? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind." She shifted her head, turning it to the side to make herself more comfortable. "The captain...he's like the man I remember as a child. Not the man at the end. Not the one who had come to despise Starfleet."

The thought of her Picard was a strange, unsettling one for the young man. "And Commander Riker?"

Her chest rose as she inhaled deeply. "He's not all that different. Though...he never settled down, like my father. So as close as we've become…" Carmen trailed off with a grimace.

"What?"

"Well, it's just...here, he was never meant to be my father. I feel like an intruder sometimes. Like maybe I was just meant to be alone." Echoes of her nightmare's ominous words resounded in her head.

"I don't think that's true. I think you were meant to be here. I think that's _why_ you're here." Sheppard offered her an encouraging smile. It heartened her more than he knew. "I mean, look at all you've done. For us, anyways."

Gingerly then, he peeled the cloth back. The bleeding had stopped. But as he moved his hand away, Carmen reached up and grasped it.

"You _are_ brave, you know," she said. "And you always seem to...to just be there, whenever I need you. Even before this mission." Each of their memories turned to a cold, windy night and cold, metal bleachers and the warmth of a newfound friendship. "Thank-you, by the way. That night in San Francisco...I was kind of lost. In more ways than one."

But Sheppard declined her praise with a shake of his head. "Hey, it's nothing. I was just looking for a friend."

"Well, you found one." She pulled on his hand, using it to sit herself up. His stomach did a strange flip as she scooted closer to him. His cheeks burned, suddenly hot. The moonlight glowed on her face again, and this time, he couldn't help but lean in and press his lips against hers.

She went rigid. Her shoulders rose stiffly, caught off-guard. He backed away, mortified by what he had just done. "I-I'm so sorry!" he stammered. "I don't know what came over me-I didn't mean to-I shouldn't have-"

Her legs coiled beneath her. As she crawled towards him, Sheppard's chest tightened. He felt more than a little afraid for his life. "Don't apologize," she ordered him. "Just do it again." She leaned in, closing half the distance.

Relief swept over the young man. He half-laughed, half-sighed, then obliged and kissed her again. It was a tad clumsy at first, but the eagerness with which she kissed him back was of great encouragement. Her tongue ran across the inside of his bottom lip, gently imploring. His cheeks burned anew as he granted her entry and their kiss deepened.

Their second kiss was much less gentle. She leaned into him all the while, urging his back to the floor. Raven-dark hair fell about his face. His head spun in the heat of the moment. He found himself unable to believe she was letting him kiss her, letting his hands drift up her legs, letting him clutch at her hips as they settled over his.

" _Haykov to Sheppard_ -"

His combadge interrupted the glorious silence. Carmen broke away, laughing ruefully. "Better get that."

He sat up and tapped at his combadge. "What is it, Haykov?" he answered, trying to mask how out of breath he was. Carmen nuzzled under his chin as he awaited a reply, teasing him with soft, tender kisses along his neck.

" _Are you still down with Riker? Kerry's arm is bleeding all over the place. We could use some extra gauze from the medkit on the shuttle_."

Carmen straightened up again. Her eyebrows narrowed pensively.

"Uh..sure, yeah." Sheppard glanced over at Carmen and the angry, red slashes across her own neck. His expression sobered. "That's strange," he mused aloud.

"A coincidence," she insisted. "Wind and sand aren't exactly a good mix for open wounds. Anyways, you should probably head back up." She cast him a sultry smile. "As much as I want you to stay."

A grin returned to his face. "You sure I can't?"

"Don't tempt me!" She grabbed his collar and pulled him to her lips once more. After the kiss had drawn to its natural end, she leaned her forehead against his. "At least not yet. Maybe tomorrow, when we're back on the Enterprise?"

Sheppard's heart thumped. His head spun all over again. "Deal."


	20. Three of Five

Riker stared at the swirling, stormy surface of Zinor as if he could will the shuttle into being. He rested his jaw on one hand, strumming the fingers of his other against the side of his chair.

"Captain, please," he beseeched. "Before the window closes-"

"Steady, Number One." Picard sat at the helm, his eyes glued to the viewscreen as well. It had been hours since the away team was supposed to return, and the storm only worsened with every passing minute. On the captain's other side sat Troi, distress written plainly in the lines of her face. She cast the captain an anxious glance.

"Mister Laforge-" Picard said after a tap to his combadge. "How much longer?"

"Twenty minutes, sir," came the reply. "Tops. Any longer and the storm's wind forces would tear a shuttle apart."

The captain sighed deeply. "Very well. Get a team together, Number One."

"Yes, sir." Riker shot to his feet, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Troi. But she followed each of his long, hurried strides anyways.

" _Deanna_." He turned on her as soon as they reached the turbolift doors.

"I'm coming too, Will." Her mouth drew into a thin, determined line.

Riker's jaw worked for words. He looked to the captain for help, but Picard sank back in his chair, pretending not to notice. "Look," he finally said, taking hold of her shoulders. "We don't know what's down there. Clearly it isn't safe-"

"That's never stopped me before." She brushed his hands from her shoulders as easily as she brushed aside his concern. "Now come on; we're wasting time."

Something trilled from Data's console at navigation. Riker and Troi both paused. "What is it?" the commander called. "Is it them?" A moment of hopeful silence filled the bridge.

"Yes, sir," the android replied. Riker hastened to his side, propping a leg up and leaning over it anxiously.

"Can you make contact?"

"No, sir. The shuttle has experienced severe storm damage. They will likely not make it through the thermosphere-" Another trill sounded. "Life support systems shutting down, sir."

Picard rose to his feet, giving his uniform a tug. "Tractor beam," he ordered. "Tow them in, Mister Data. Now."

Data's expression remained neutral, phlegmatic, as his fingers danced across the screen. To Riker, every second crawled by like a year. His heart felt as though it might leap from his chest. "I have them, sir," Data said at last. "Bringing them into shuttle bay four."

Picard locked eyes with the commander. "On your way, Number One. Take them directly to sickbay. I'll meet you there."

* * *

The doors of sickbay swished open. Picard strode in, scanning for Crusher's flame-colored hair, her shrewd blue eyes. Loud voices from the far end stole his attention.

"Lay off of me, Bettencourt!" a young woman shrieked, swatting an attendant's hand away. "I don't need a checkup!" Sweat dampened her gold-colored hair and streaked the dust on her face, giving her cheeks a sickly sheen.

"Would you stop this, Kerry?" the attendant scolded. "We're only trying to help! And your arm is bleeding badly-"

"Do as she says, Kerry. Please," Troi pleaded. She stood with Riker a few paces from the feuding pair. As soon as the commander noticed Picard's presence, he began to make his way through the swarm of medical staff.

"Captain!" A sturdily-built ensign with white-blond hair scrambled to his feet, much to the chagrin of the nurse looking him over. A Bolian on a neighboring cot climbed to his feet as well. Both stood rigidly and respectfully at the sight of their captain.

"At ease, Mister Haykov," Picard ordered, a note of gentleness in his rich, rumbling voice. "You as well, Mister Orin."

Meanwhile, Kerry's protests rose to a frantic pitch. Crusher appeared and wedged herself in front of the argumentative young woman. "Kerry, I'm ordering you to stop this nonsense! You know proper procedure-"

"Damn procedure! Damn this ship! And damn _you!_ "

Haykov's jaw dropped open. He and Orin gaped at their companion, dumbstruck.

Kerry's breathing turned ragged. "I can't-I can't _breathe_ in here! All of you, get away from me! I said get away!" She kicked a nearby tray, sending various instruments crashing to the floor.

"Doctor, subdue her immediately," Picard ordered. Crusher pulled a hypospray from a pocket on the front of her lab coat. But Kerry struck her arm and it went skidding across the ground. Riker quickly stepped in, intervening before Kerry could strike the doctor again. He pinned her arms to her sides as she dissolved into rabid threats and snarls.

Crusher hurriedly retrieved the hypospray. "This won't hurt, Kerry. You know that." She pressed it to the side of the thrashing young woman's neck. Kerry immediately went limp, slumping over Riker's arms. With the doctor's help, he laid her inert body across the top of the cot.

"She-she's not normally like this," Haykov insisted, turning to the captain. "I promise. She's just under a lot of stress or something." His gaze returned to the unconscious Kerry.

"That wasn't stress." Crusher had pocketed the hypospray and now held a tricorder in her hand. A medical scanner fitted to its top beeped several times as it analyzed Kerry's blood. "It was poison."

"Poison?" Haykov gulped. "But-but how?"

"Has she come in contact with any strange plants?" The doctor turned over Kerry's hands, revealing her scratched and scored palms. "What are these marks from?"

"I think she grabbed a branch or something, when she fell down that hill yesterday," Haykov answered.

"Yes, when the dog creatures attacked us," Orin chimed in.

"Dog creatures?" Riker echoed.

"A whole pack of them," the Bolian continued. "One of them tried to drag Kerry off, but Ensign Riker…" His voice broke at the mention of their missing comrade. "She...she jumped down after her. Didn't even hesitate."

Troi's eyes misted over. "Is that how…?"

"No, it wasn't the dog." Haykov answered her half-spoken question. "She took care of that thing permanently."

A proud smile faintly curved the counselor's lips. She could sense the same pride radiating from Riker as well. And from the doctor, a flicker of hope. "This poison's effects are gradual, not rapid. Human systems must be hardier than those of its usual prey."

"Will she be alright then?" Troi asked.

"If I can find a cure fast enough."

"Make it so, doctor." Picard nodded curtly. "And notify me as soon as you make any progress."

"Of course." She sent him a small but confident smile, then turned to her swarm of staff. "Bettencourt, get me a phoretic analyzer. Connery, help me take off this bandage and clean up her arm. Coupe, I need those blood units up and running..." Soon, sickbay bustled under Crusher's command.

But Picard wasn't quite finished yet. He addressed the young man who sulked silently on his cot, his face pinched together with worry. "As soon as you are cleared, I expect a full briefing on what happened down there."

Haykov swallowed hard. His face paled beneath the bright lights. "Yes, sir," he conceded.

Once the captain had turned away, a frown pulled at Riker's mouth. He wanted to know all the answers right now, he wanted to _do_ something, damnit. But landing on Zinor's stormy surface was impossible at the moment. The only thing to do was wait. _Hang in there, Carmen,_ he thought, wishing he could somehow reach her mind the way the counselor could at times. _I'll find you. I promise._


	21. Answers

**A/N: Angel897, Zara08-So glad you guys are still enjoying :-) Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

"Alright, Mister Haykov. We can begin," Picard said, sighing deeply as he settled into his chair at the head of a long, glossy table. "Now, what happened down there?"

Haykov looked sick to his stomach, despite having been cleared for the briefing by Crusher's staff. His eyes between each of the faces present. Riker and Troi flanked Picard, sitting across the table from one another. Worf and Laforge sat beside them, respectively. All eyes made their way to the junior officer. Riker's stare was a particularly blistering one. Haykov found himself wondering how long it would take the commander to leap across the table and throttle him. _Not long at all, probably._

"Well, Haykov?" he prompted. "Why did you leave two of your party behind?"

The young man drew in a breath, steeling himself. "We waited as long as we could, sir. Spent hours in those caves, searching for her. Sheppard...he refused to leave. He stayed behind to keep looking."

Laforge smiled fondly. "Sounds like Sheppard, alright."

"He said it was the shadow people," Orin added. "But it was the Nokk Qoten. I'm sure of it."

"Well _I'm_ not sure of it," Haykov retorted. "They tried it before, remember?"

"Who? Tried what?" Riker's patience had already waned dangerously thin.

"The shadow people! They tried to take her before! It _had_ to be them this time!"

"But she was in the Chamber of Hearts," Orin argued. "You heard the singing!"

"Slow down, slow down," Picard instructed, steepling his fingers together. "Haykov, these shadow people-what did they look like?"

"They-well, we...uh...we never actually saw them," he admitted. "But we _did_ see a body."

"What kind of body?" Worf's brow furrowed with intrigue.

Haykov squirmed in his seat at the grotesque image that came to mind. "It was kind of hard to tell. It looked human, though."

"Well didn't you scan it?" Laforge asked.

Again Haykov squirmed, this time with shame. "No, sir. At that point, we thought we were the only people on the planet. And Ensign Riker had run off, so we assumed it was her."

"Run off? Why would she run off?" Riker's eyes narrowed, practically burning a hole through the young officer's skull.

"She had been hearing things, seeing things. And after Sheppard got hurt, Kerry thought she was too dangerous. Said we should confine her to the shuttle."

"Wait-she hurt Sheppard?" Laforge frowned with concern.

"She didn't mean to!" Orin jumped to the young woman's defense. "Trust me, she never would've hurt Sheppard on purpose. Especially after the way they were acting this morn-"

"It's because she thought he was somebody else," Haykov interrupted, hoping that the commander wouldn't find it suspicious. But Riker's glower intensified.

"Like one of the shadow people, perhaps?" Picard offered. "What happened the first time they tried to take her?"

"She said they led her towards the north end of the ruins. Then that cat monster showed up, and everyone made a run for it. We...uh...sort of bumped into her just as we were leaving the caves. Her and the cat."

"But you never saw her pursuers?"

"Well...no, sir."

Riker turned towards the captain, blinking in surprise. "Sir, what are you suggesting?"

Picard exhaled slowly, carefully. "From the sound of things, we should be prepared for the possibility that Carmen's mind has been altered somehow."

"Sir, if I may-" Orin spoke up again. "We saw things, too. Things that didn't make sense. I believe now that she was telling the truth all along. For example, she wasn't with us when we entered the Chamber of Hearts, yet she could describe it perfectly."

"What do you mean, the Chamber of Hearts?" Worf inquired.

"She called it that," Orin explained. "Ensign Riker, she had been seeing it in her sleep. That's where she went when she...when…" His shoulders slumped. "When she disappeared."

"We tried to talk her out of it, I swear," Haykov insisted. "We were just there to get a few more samples. Then…"

"Then what?" Troi gently urged.

"We heard the singing again." Haykov shuddered involuntarily. "We'd heard it before, when the Nokk Qoten showed up."

"That's the second time you've mentioned them," Picard remarked. "But I thought the Nokk Qoten were from Bolian mythology?"

"We don't know what they were, exactly. But…" He searched for the right words, ones that wouldn't make him sound crazy. That proved impossible, however. "They...uh...they came out of the walls. Spoke into our minds somehow."

Troi and the captain exchanged a meaningful glance. "A telepathic race?" he mused aloud.

"Yes, sir. That would explain her nightmares."

"How so?" The commander leaned back, rubbing one hand against his beard.

"Maybe they could sense her Betazoid blood, tried communicating with her. If she realized this, then-"

"Then that's why she must have gone into the Chamber of Hearts," Riker finished. He looked to Picard earnestly. "Sir, I think she was on to something."

Picard drummed a pensive hand on the table. "Haykov," he said after a prolonged pause. "Did anyone go into the chamber with her?"

"No. Sheppard begged her not to go alone, but she made us all wait outside. Said something about a mother and child...and someone named Wharton, I think."

To Haykov's surprise, the name had a profound effect on his audience, especially Picard. The captain bolted upright in his chair. "Wharton? What about Wharton?"

"I don't know, she wasn't making a lot of sense at that point. But she wasn't in there very long before we heard her on our combadges." Haykov tried to wet his lips, but his mouth felt like cotton. So Orin took over for him.

"That's when she told us to get out of there, to get help."

"Did she say anything else?" Riker asked, a slight waver in his voice.

"No, sir. When we went in after her, this was all we found." He reached into a pouch at his belt and retrieved something small. Then he bit down on his lip and held it out to the commander. "I'm sorry, sir."

Troi inhaled sharply as it fell into Riker's palm. The commander didn't even have to look down to know what it was. He knew its familiar weight, the curve of its edges. A combadge. It was Carmen's combadge.

Suddenly the doors swished open and someone burst into their midst. Picard's head whipped to the side to see Dr. Crusher's flame-colored hair tousled from her haste and her blue eyes brimming with urgency. "Haykov-that wound on Kerry's arm, where is it from?" she demanded, bypassing any form of a greeting.

"Her-? Oh, from the dog creature."

"Do you mean the one that Carmen fought off? Was she bitten, too?"

"Well yeah. Why?"

"Beverly, what is it?" Picard stood and touched her gently on the shoulder.

"It's the poison." Crusher's face darkened. "It didn't come from a plant. It came from the dog bite."


	22. A Samarian Sunset

**Zara08-I like the idea of having a scene like that! I wonder what she'd do, too...*rubs hands together* *opens a Word document* *evil laughter***

* * *

In the calm during the storm, Crusher worked around the clock on a cure. Kerry's condition steadily worsened, often requiring sedation of some degree. Even in her unconscious periods, Haykov could usually be found at her bedside.

Troi stopped in frequently, but after three days, Crusher's answer was still: "Almost, Deanna." So after receiving the same disappointing news, Troi made her way to Ten Forward. It was late, and the lounge buzzed with officers fresh from shift change.

"Looking for Will?"

Troi's attention was redirected to the bar, where Guinan leaned against the counter. She wore a wide-brimmed purple hat that matched her billowing robe and an astute sort of smile.

"Yes. Have I missed him?"

"Missed him?" A wry laugh tumbled from the El-Aurian's lips. "He hasn't been in! I have his Samarian Sunset ready to go and everything. You should tell him to come get it."

Troi nodded, smiling in return. "Yes, I'll do that."

* * *

Troi had to ring at his door three times before the commander answered.

"Will? What are you doing here?" she asked, her dark eyes softening with concern.

"What do you mean? These are my quarters, aren't they?" he snapped.

She pursed her lips together. "You're angry, I get it. But I'm not the enemy here. We're in this together, remember?"

Riker sank against the doorframe, blowing out of the side of his mouth. "I'm sorry, Deanna. Here-come on in."

She followed him over to the burgundy sofa that curved against one wall. After he had sat down, Troi curled up at his side with her head resting atop his chest.

"You were right," he said. "I _am_ angry. I'm angry at Carmen for going into that chamber alone. I'm angry at Haykov for leaving. I'm angry at Sheppard for _not_ leaving."

"And you're angry at yourself."

"Please." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm not in the mood for a counseling session right now."

Troi lifted her head, studying the weary lines that ran across his face. "You know who you sound like right now, don't you?"

Riker unsuccessfully tried to hold back a smile. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled.

"And you know what often worked for her? Ten Forward and a Samarian Sunset. Come on, let's go."

"I...I can't, Deanna. Not right now."

"Oh? Some pressing appointment?"

His eyes narrowed into a glare. "I'm just not in the mood to have a drink and act like nothing's wrong."

"No one's asking you to act like nothing's wrong," Troi pointed out. "And anyways, Geordi said we have three more days before we can attempt that storm. Shutting yourself up in here won't help Carmen or yourself."

Riker nodded slowly, begrudgingly. "Fine. But just one drink."

* * *

"Did you want any food to go with this Samarian Sunset?" Guinan asked, planting a glass in front of the commander.

"No thanks, Guinan," he declined.

She clicked her tongue at him like a chiding mother. "Steak and eggs coming right up."

"Guinan, I said-" He stopped short, for she was already headed towards the replicator. Then, grumbling under his breath, he brought the Samarian Sunset to his lips.

"Hey! Wait!" Troi protested. "You forgot the best part!"

"What? Oh. Right." He set the glass back down. Troi reached out and tapped the brim, smiling softly as vivid oranges and yellows appeared, swirling together like Zinor's stormy surface.

The reminder was an unpleasant one to the commander. He grunted, shoving the drink away. "You can have it. I'll wait for my steak and eggs."

Troi's smile vanished. "What is with you and Carmen, hmm? Carrying every burden like it was yours alone."

"I'm second in command. A lot of these burdens _are_ mine alone." He paused as Guinan set a hot plate in front of him. Steam and savory smells wafted to his nose, but even they could not entice him. "The thing is, I'm supposed to be level-headed. In control. A _commander_. But I can't think straight anymore. I can't stop torturing myself with all the what-ifs. Maybe...I don't know. Maybe it was too much of a risk."

"Away missions come with risks. She knew that."

"I wasn't talking about the away mission," he replied. "I was talking about...well...this."

"What?"

" _This_ ," he repeated. "Maybe it was too fast after all."

Troi's expression hardened. "You mean...us?"

He nodded, though it pained him to admit it. "Us. Carmen. The whole thing."

She blew out of her nose. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. "I see…" she said finally.

"Deanna, I'm sor-"

"Enjoy your steak and eggs, commander." She turned on her heel and left without another word.

"Please don't-Deanna!" Her departure, sudden and scalding, made the commander feel as though something sharp had been lodged into his chest. He bent over his untouched food, sinking further into his despondency.

"You know…" Guinan's voice drew his head up. He realized she was standing nearby. For how long, he couldn't be sure. "I like these drinks, myself. These Samarian Sunsets. I think there's something to them, don't you?"

"I'm not really in the mood to-"

"I mean they're beautiful to start out with," Guinan continued. "Smooth. Crystal clear. Not a pesky bubble in sight. I see a lot of people in here who want their lives to be like that."

He scowled at her fiercely, but she ignored him, dropping down onto her elbows with a sigh. "My knees aren't what they used to be. That happens when you get to be six centuries old, I guess." She sent him a smirk. "Anyways, sometimes it takes something sudden, something tumultuous even-" She tapped the rim of his glass. "To bring a little color into our world. Only then can we see what we were missing. And once we do, things can never go back to the way they were. The way this drink here can never be clear again. But isn't that a wonderful thing?"

Riker's scowl slowly faded. He stared at the drink, still basking in Guinan's words. "Hey, uh, Guinan? I think-"

"Your food's getting cold. Better eat up." She straightened once more, turning to leave. Then she paused. "Deanna will need time to cool off, anyways."


	23. Crossing Lines

**A few notes for you...**

 **-This chapter refers to stuff that happened in Ch. 47 (The Color Red) in "Somewhere Out There," if you haven't read that one yet.**

 **-So sometimes I like to write chapters ahead of time, out of sequence, to help me get a grasp for the characters and how they would act throughout the situations in the story. This was that chapter for "Dust and Shadows." I'm very excited to finally put it out there! I hope you guys like it.**

 **-Angel897: I look forward to your reviews every time! Thanks so much for always reading :-)**

 **-To everyone still following along, you guys are the best. I've been loving this experience, and I wouldn't have as much motivation to put my stories out there if it weren't for your support! So I just wanted to pass on a little appreciation :-). Okay okay, without further ado, here's the next chapter...**

* * *

 _Carmen sat alone against the wall of her quarters, staring at the glass bottle scornfully. It had a long neck and a metal cap and was filled to the brim with thick, red paste. "What am I going to do with you," she grumbled, taking another swig of bloodwine and then wiping a sleeve across her mouth. "They are the ones who wanted ketchup, not me!" Angry tears sprang to her eyes, for they were the ones not there anymore._

 _Her eyes drifted from the bottle of ketchup to a mess of blankets on the floor beside her bunk. Three blankets. And small trinkets, a few photographs. Their only possessions. Such reminders were always difficult to come back to, like ghosts of small, insignificant lives barely allowed to live. Even though it had been almost two months, she still could not bring herself to dispose of anything._

 _She drank some more. And then some more. Carmen drank until her head swam with bloodwine and her loneliness was all that remained. The ketchup bottle seemed to mock her now. She could not stand the sight of it, so she left her room, trying to leave the loneliness behind as well. She stumbled down the dark hallways of the Bird-of-Prey until she came to a familiar door. Vullek's door._

" _Damn you, Vullek," she cursed under her breath. This was all his fault. He made sure she returned from every battle. He would not let her rest in peace. But neither could she live in peace._

" _Vullek!" she shouted, pounding heavily against his door. "Face me, Vullek!" Yes, she would give him a piece of her mind. She pounded again, forgetting entirely how to ring the chimes. After several more moments, the door slid open._

 _A young, bare chested Klingon stood before her. "Qa'Hom?" he croaked, still half-asleep. "What are you doing here? You reek of bloodwi-"_

 _She crashed into him, silencing his lips with hers. "Do not speak," she ordered, ardently kissing his mouth and his face. Her hands moved across his chest, feeling every chiseled muscle, every jagged scar, beneath her palms._

 _Once he had recovered from his shock, he grabbed the sides of her face and broke away. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, gasping for breath._

" _We are not children anymore, you and I." She took hold of one of his hands, then guided it down her neck and over the gentle rise of her breast. "Or haven't you noticed?"_

 _A lustful groan escaped his lips. Something burned within him at the touch. But, clinging to his senses, he shook his head and tried to back away. "No. You are human. I would...I would hurt you."_

 _Carmen kissed him again, setting his imagination ablaze. Her hands snaked around to his lower back. "Then be gentle," she whispered. "But do not expect the same from me." She dug her fingernails into his back until he growled. The growl rumbled deep in his throat as he relented, kissing her fiercely in return._

 _She lifted her shirt, withdrawing just long enough to pull it over her head before returning to the scorch of his lips. Hungrily, he tore away at the rest of her clothes piece by piece while she disposed of his in the same vicious manner. Then, still locked to her lips, he pulled her legs up and around his waist._

 _Together they slammed into the wall. But as he drove against her, she cried out in pain. Vullek paused. "It is too much…?"_

 _Carmen panted to catch her breath. She looked up at him apologetically. "No, no. It's my leg...just my leg. Keep going."_

 _She went in for another kiss, but he refrained. "Your leg?" His hand slid over her thigh and she winced. "It's still broken, isn't it?" Fresh memories surged to the front of his mind, a vision of Carmen dragging her bloody, useless leg through the snow in an effort to reach a child they could not save. One of three that day. One of many over the years._

" _I'm fine," she insisted. "Don't stop."_

 _But the fire had already cooled. He set Carmen down and withdrew from her. "No. We must not do this."_

" _You want me, Vullek. I can feel it. Don't-don't take this from me." She limped towards him. Her hand reached for his face. "I need to feel again. Please. Let me feel something again."_

" _You are drunk." He swatted her hand away. "And hurt."_

 _Carmen's bottom lip trembled at the rejection. "It's almost all healed up-"_

" _I was not talking about your leg."_

 _Bitter tears shone from her gaze. Her shoulders shook with every breath. "Why?" she bemoaned. "Why do you keep me alive?"_

 _He turned away from her, biding his own pain. "Perhaps I should have listened to them. Perhaps I was a fool, to get so attached."_

 _A new fire blazed behind her eyes. But this one burned with anger. "Then let me die next time! I never asked you to save me! I never asked_ anyone _to save me!" She charged at him with a desperate cry and pounded her fists against his chest. Vullek took the beating in stoic silence, standing firm and unflinching. He waited patiently until she had exhausted her strength, her fury. When she sank against him at last, her snarls dissolving into sobs, he scooped her up and carried her over to the bed._

" _I will cross every battlefield for you, Qa'Hom," he said, tucking the fur-lined quilt around her naked, quivering body. "For a warrior does not let a friend face danger alone. But I will not cross this line. No...this a line that neither of us must ever cross. Do you understand?"_

" _No," she spat. "I do not understand. Hasn't the war robbed us of enough?"_

" _The war is not over. We must be level-headed out there. In control. Warriors."_

" _I am tired, Vullek," she whispered._

" _Then sleep. You need your rest-"_

" _Tired of being alone. Tired of being denied everything and everyone." Her shoulders shook again, this time with a drunken, deranged sort of laughter. "I have nothing left but a-but a damn ketchup bottle! Ha! And no one to share it with!"_

 _Vullek sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. Eventually Carmen's laughter died down and a heavy silence overtook her. "Sleep, Qa'Hom," he mumbled. "In the morning, we fight again."_

* * *

Carmen opened her eyes. Or at least she tried to. Only one was in good enough shape to open all the way. The other was swollen and tender from a well-placed blow. It had taken her captors a valiant effort to subdue the young woman. But she had left at least one of them worse off than her. They had taken him away, presumably to their shuttle or whatever craft they arrived in, and she had not seen him since.

Her heart broke as she thought back to that day. She could still hear Sheppard desperately shouting her name as they dragged her through the caves, away from her team, away from safety. _Sheppard._ Tears stung her eyes to picture his face. What was she thinking? How could she have been so foolish, to let herself get so attached? To dance along the edge of that line? The war was not over yet. It hadn't even begun. But it was coming. The Nokk Qoten, or whatever they were, had shown her that.

"Talbot! Hey Talbot! She's waking up again. What d'ya want me to do?" An accented voice rang out across the still, dry air.

"Don't worry about it. And don't say my name!" Carmen heard the thumping sound of a smack.

"Come on, she ain't even all there. See that bite on her neck? She's goin' the same way as Callahan. What we gonna do, eh? Can't bring her back dead as a doornail."

"Well we can't fly through this storm, can we?" Talbot snapped. "Just sit down and shut up. God, I can't wait to leave this place."

Talbot's companion settled down. Carmen remained still as she could, tied up in binds, but her mind raced. Callahan? What happened to Callahan? What was happening to _her_? She had felt worse and worse as each day in captivity passed, but she'd merely attributed that to blood loss. Her neck wouldn't stop bleeding it seemed, and she could feel it soaking down her front now.

Someone approached. Carmen looked up into the black mesh of his mask. None of them ever removed their masks in her presence. But this one's hulking shape seemed familiar somehow. He knelt beside her, a damp cloth in his hand as he cleaned the blood from her neck and chest. An unexpected sentiment drifted towards her from this towering stranger. Pity. He pitied her.

Her nightmare came drifting towards her as well. _I take pity on you_ , she could hear Wharton say. That's when it struck her. Yes, this figure was familiar. She knew him well. Just not in this universe.

"Wh-Wharton?" she muttered. He froze. A bolt of fear ran through Carmen. It was not her fear, but his.

Her lips curled into a snarl. Rage surged through her veins and clouded her mind. "Let me go, Wharton," she growled. "Or I'll kill you again. I swear I will! _Dejpu'bogh hov rur qablij!_ _"_ She thrashed against her bonds until the rope cut into her arms, her legs.

"She's going into one of her fits again!" Talbot came running over. He fired a phaser, set to stun, and its painful sting quickly rendered her immobile.

Wharton stumbled backwards, still recovering from his shock. "She-she knew my name!" he exclaimed.

"She gives me the willies, I tell ya." The accented man approached with a limp given to him by Carmen. "You know she can talk with that Betazoid lady? In her head?" He pointed to his temple.

"Well good thing she isn't here," Talbot huffed. Then he turned to Wharton once more. "Anyways, I guess it won't matter for much longer anyways. Finish up with that, would you? Then let's go get some food. I'm starving."

Wharton hesitated. "And leave her here?"

"Where's she gonna go?"

"I don't know, it's just-"

"They left days ago." Talbot laughed, a cruel and demeaning sound. Swiftly then, he plunged his boot into Carmen's gut. "You hear that? They left! Some friends you've got." He kicked her two more times. Carmen clenched down on her teeth, fighting against the bile that shot to the back of her throat.

His thirst for punishment slaked, Talbot retreated to a fire that cast flickering shadows against the dusty wall. The accented man joined him. Only Wharton remained. Quietly, he picked up the damp cloth and resumed cleaning her wound.

"Don't you dare touch me," she warned, jerking away from him.

"Please," he whispered. "It's the least I can do."

"Why? Why are you keeping me alive?"

He hung his head. A hint of shame seeped into his pity. "You know I can't tell you that."

Again, she thought back to her nightmare. Her eyes narrowed to menacing slits as she stared the masked man down. "What do you know about the Borg?"

He went rigid. Slowly, he put the cloth down and rose. "I...I think I'm done here," he called to the other men. But Carmen knew it was meant for her, too. She watched all three men recede from her frame of view. Then she rolled from her side to her back with a groan of effort, studying her surroundings best she could.

Thus far, she hadn't been able to glean much. They were within the abandoned city, that much she knew. The walls appeared smooth and straight, not like the inside of the caves. But the large space bore no windows, and the only light came from a fire that blazed near a small, arched doorway. Its smoke trailed along the ceiling and through the arch, leading her to believe that an exit was close by.

Carmen shivered. The cold ground provided no warmth, and she was too far from the flames to feel their heat. By and by, her eyes began to close. She could feel sleep's claws sinking into her mind...

" _Carmen_." Someone whispered her name. Her good eye flew open. "It's alright. I'm here." Then someone was cutting away at her bonds.

"What? How-? I told you to get out of here!" Carmen's heart pounded with sudden urgency. "The storm-the shuttle will never make it out now! Not for days!"

"It already did." Sheppard smiled at her soothingly. "Don't worry. Help is on the way."

"But you-why did you stay?" Though her voice trembled, it still managed to hold a note of anger.

"Because a warrior doesn't let a friend face danger alone. Remember?" The last rope snapped beneath his blade. Gingerly then, he lifted one of Carmen's arms and tucked it around his neck. "Come on. We need to get out of here before they come back."


	24. Trust

**A/N: For some reason it's showing Chapter 22 as having barely any action. Not sure if it's a glitch on my end or if it's maybe not showing up? Anyways, I hope you were all able to read that one!**

 **Bnewall1-Ahh you know my secret! Lol :-). Good timing, too, because today is actually the anniversary of Alan Shepard's first flight to space! We're all wannabe astronauts in this household-my daughter, who is only 3, actually prefers to watch moon documentaries over cartoons, and has a space themed bedroom. We had a dog named Kepler (named after the astronomer) and we also just got a puppy last weekend and named her Nova. And my dad actually got my name Raina from an original Star Trek episode!**

 **Angel897-Yay! I'm glad you liked that part!**

 **Zara08-Hahaha so true ;-) And here's some of that Riker's school of worthiness that I promised! There will be more!**

* * *

"Stop here," Carmen ordered, her throat rattling with every breath. "Just...just for a minute."

Sheppard propped her against the wall of a derelict dwelling, studying the young woman with growing concern. Sweat slicked the hair to her face, her neck. A map of bruises marred her right cheek, nearly swelling one eye closed. And between the blood and dust, her uniform was barely recognizable anymore.

"It's fine, I'm fine. I just need to catch my breath, that's all," she deflected.

"Well, it's not much farther," he promised. "I found this cellar over towards-Carmen!"

She collapsed face first onto the ground. Her arms remained at her side, making no attempt to break her fall whatsoever.

Sheppard dropped to his knees. "Carmen! Can you hear me?" He rolled her over and then gave her shoulders a gentle shake. When that didn't work, he pressed a palm against her cheek. Immediately, his hand recoiled as if it had been burned, for her skin felt hot enough to boil the sweat that rolled from her scalp.

He tried once more to rouse her, forcefully this time. Her hands shot up, grabbing hold of his wrists and nearly giving him a heart attack. "I said don't touch me, Wharton!" she snarled.

"It-it's me! Just me!" Sheppard stammered. "Remember? It's alright. You're safe again."

Her eyes slowly widened. Her fingers uncurled from around his wrists. "Sheppard?"

"I think you're ill or something," he said, sliding one hand under her back and helping her to sit up. "Those Romulans-what did they do to you?"

Carmen's eyes continued to widen. "Did you say Romulans? What Romulans?"

His face fell. Clearly the fever was muddling her mind. "Uh...don't worry about it. We can talk later." Sheppard's other hand slid beneath her legs. With a grunt of effort, he lifted her off the ground. Then, bending his head down and out of the wind, he carried her through the crumbling ruins.

* * *

"Hey, uh, Geordi?"

Laforge looked up from his computer, mouth still open in mid-thought as he pored over the away team's samples.

"Commander? Come on in!"

Riker wandered in to the room, his hands clasping and unclasping in front of him. He took a deep breath, but no words came out.

"Something I can do for you?" the lieutenant prompted.

"Well...you see...Ensign Sheppard works in Engineering, right?"

"That's right."

"What is he like?"

Laforge tilted his head to the side. "Sir?"

Riker took a seat on the edge of the desk. "It's a pretty straightforward question, Geordi."

"You...want to know what Sheppard is like?"

"Uh huh."

The lieutenant tugged at his uniform. For some reason, he suddenly felt as though he were being interrogated. "He's...um...he's reliable. Hard-working. Soft-spoken, but stalwart as they come. Has a good eye, that's for sure-"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What?"

Riker folded his arms. "A good eye for what, exactly?"

"Things. Just things. Engineering things."

"Oh. Right." The commander's arms uncrossed. "Continue."

Laforge leaned back in his chair, a realization dawning on him. "Wait a minute-is this about Carmen?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

A smile spread across Laforge's face. It was followed by a laugh so hearty that he slapped his knee several times. "It is! I was at the debriefing, remember? I heard Orin and Haykov dancing around the issue."

"What issue?" Riker continued to feign innocence.

"Go ahead and ask me the real question, commander. You want to know if _I_ know anything." He leaned farther back and steepled his fingers together with a sly grin.

"Well do you?" the commander asked, finally giving in. "You've been working with Carmen. Is that how they met? How long has it been going on? Do they spend a lot of time down here-"

"Whoa, whoa. I know as much as you do, I swear." Laforge waved an earnest hand. "But if there _is_ something going on, what are you so worried about? Don't you trust Carmen?"

An unconvincing laugh tumbled from Riker's lips. "Of course I trust Carmen!" His laughter abruptly died off. "Shouldn't I trust Carmen?"

"Well…" Laforge started, shrugging nonchalantly. "Not like you have a choice, right? I mean, they're both adults-"

" _Adults_?" Riker glared at him as if he had just suggested something outlandish. But the lieutenant carried on, unruffled.

"Anyways, you should be so lucky if it's someone like Sheppard. He's a good guy. Just ask Deanna."

The commander's face blanked. "Deanna? Why would I ask Deanna?"

"She knows him. Didn't she tell you?"

"Oh, uh…" He stood up from the desk and turned away, pretending to be interested in a screen full of numbers on the wall all of a sudden. "Not exactly."

Laforge studied him shrewdly. "Everything okay between you two?"

"Not exactly."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not exactly."

"Alright then." The lieutenant hunched over his work once more. "Well, a heartfelt apology goes a long way with her."

Riker's eyes narrowed. "Who said I was the one who needed to apologize?"

"And it wouldn't hurt to have a chocolate sundae on hand, either."


	25. Not For a Warrior

Carmen came to, squinting her eyes against the blue light of a lantern that sat a few feet away. She felt the fuzz of a soft blanket against her cheek. Cool, dry air wrapped around her bare feet. Someone had removed her boots and socks, she realized. Her hand went to her neck, where she felt the pull of a fresh bandage. The same person must have dressed her wounds. Her wounds? How did she get wounds? She strained her memory, but could find nothing helpful. Some kind of instinct urged her to get up, to search for danger. But her legs would barely move, so her eyes did the wandering instead.

The room around her was small. It look barren save for a few bags, the lantern, and the blanket she rested on. In the corner farthest from her, a steep flight of stairs ascended to the outside world. Eerie evening light floated over the top stair like a ghost.

"Hey there," came a voice. It was followed by a rustle just behind her head. She gasped, sitting up in a hurry. Too much of a hurry. Her head felt like it was spinning. Or maybe that was the room. "How do you feel?"

Carmen blinked several times and then scanned for the face that belonged to the voice. When she found it, memories started to string together through the fog in her mind. "Sheppard?" Her voice came out as barely more than a hoarse whisper.

A young man with chestnut brown hair and friendly eyes was staring back at her as he sat cross-legged against the wall. He scooted closer and placed a hand on her arm. "You recognize me this time?"

"This time?"

"You've been in and out for a few hours now, ever since I brought you back here."

"Oh..." She tried to swallow, but her throat felt like sandpaper. "Water...can I have some water?"

"Yeah, yeah-hold on." He retrieved a canteen from a pile of belongings on the edge of the blanket, unscrewed the lid, and held it to her lips. She gulped it down as fast as she could, coughing and sputtering as a result of her greed. Sheppard pulled the canteen away and patiently rubbed her back until her breathing returned to normal.

As she sank onto the blanket once more, he brushed the hair from her face, letting his hand linger against her cheek. "I've been really worried about you," he whispered.

She turned her head away from his hand in order to keep from leaning in to the touch. "How...how long has it been? Since the team left?"

"Three days," Sheppard answered. "But it shouldn't be much longer before someone returns for us. Don't worry."

Carmen nodded. Something was gravely wrong with her. She could feel it muddying her senses. And she could see the concern in Sheppard's eyes, as much as he tried to hide it. Didn't her captors mention someone... _Callahan, yes that's it. They said I was going the same way as Callahan. But which way is that?_

"Oh! I have a present for you!" Sheppard interrupted her thoughts. He clambered to his feet with a grin. Carmen looked on, intrigued, as he lifted something crescent-shaped that had been leaning against a nearby wall, hiding in the shadows.

"My bat'leth!" She sat up and accepted it eagerly. "Where did you find it?"

"It was just laying there, in the sand. Must have been where they tried to take you the first time. I nearly missed it."

Carmen wiped red dust from its blade with a tender, almost loving hand. "Worf should be on his way to the tournament by now," she muttered wistfully.

"Tournament?" Sheppard took a seat at her side, slinging his arms around his knees.

"Yes, a bat'leth tournament. He tried to register me, but they said only Klingons could partake." A frown twitched at her lips. "It's not fair, really."

"You mean you actually _want_ to fight a bat'leth wielding Klingon?" he balked.

A devilish grin replaced her frown. "What? You don't think that sounds fun?"

He shook his head. "I'll tell you what I think: I think you need to find a hobby that doesn't involve getting maimed. Imagine the joy that would bring Dr. Crusher."

She burst out laughing and Sheppard basked in the sound. For three days he had searched and scouted and scraped by. For three days he had been completely and utterly alone, battling not only the storm and the hostile desert but a growing sense of hopelessness. But now, to hear her laugh again, he felt his hope restored.

Carmen rested the bat'leth on the ground, casting it one final, admiring glance. "By the way, you didn't happen to….to…" She trailed off. Her eyelids fluttered closed, almost as though she had fallen asleep mid-sentence.

"Hey, are you alright?" Sheppard took hold of one arm to keep her from falling over.

"Just...dizzy...and tired." She eased her eyes open again. "Anyways," she continued, trying to keep his concern at bay. "Um...did you grab any spare uniforms by chance? I don't think mine is salvageable."

"Oh, I might have something." He crawled over to a duffel shaped bag and dug through it. "Here. The cleanest clothes I've got. And the most comfortable." He set a soft, crumpled pile in front of her and then turned politely away so she could change.

Carmen pulled at her sleeve to remove her arm. As she did so, pain shot up from her side, where Talbot's kicks had landed. She hissed through clenched teeth. "Hey, uh, Sheppard?" she asked. "Would you…?"

Sheppard flushed with color. "Help? Oh, yeah! Of course." He came over and knelt behind her. Then he carefully peeled her jacket off and cast it aside.

"Keep going," she instructed. The breath hitched in his throat as he lifted her shirt next, revealing an athletic black bra that hugged her sweat-sheened breasts. He undid her pants after that, rolling them down to expose a pair of black briefs that fit snugly against her hips and made his pulse race.

Sheppard swallowed. It was hard not to let his eyes wander. Shadows traced the sculpt of every muscle beneath her cream-colored skin. Faded scars told harrowing, silent stories as they ran across her back, her chest, her ribs. But even they were beautiful in their own way, like reminders of her resilience. His mind drifted back to the fierceness of her kiss, the scent of her hair as it fell about his face, the curve of her hips beneath his hands...

 _Focus_ _Allan_ , he reminded himself. Then he bunched up the clean shirt and held it over her head. "Thanks," she mumbled, pulling it on and threading her arms through the sleeves. As she tugged it down the rest of the way, he retrieved the pants. Like the shirt, they were heathered gray and lined with a thick, warm material.

Carmen sank onto her back, exhausted from the task thus far. Wordlessly, Sheppard moved to her feet, gently setting one foot and then the other into place. Then, just as gently, he slid the pants up and over her long, toned legs.

Once he finished, Sheppard found himself bent over her while she lay stretched out beneath him. Carmen's chest rose sharply, for she could sense his struggle. Her fingers wandered up, of their own accord it seemed, to run through his chestnut curls.

And with that, Sheppard lost the struggle. Planting his hands on either side of her, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. Carmen trembled, not from the cold now but from how much she wanted to taste those lips again and again. A tender gentleness radiated from his touch as one of his hands slipped under her shirt and brushed across her stomach. Something in her longed to protect that gentleness, to prevent it from being snuffed out like an ember beneath the cruel heel of the universe.

But she could not get an image out of her head, something she had seen in that chamber just before she was taken. A cube-like structure drawing closer and closer to Earth's blue curve. The universe's cruel heel driving down on top of humanity. _They are coming._

The kiss drew to an end. Still his mouth hovered just above hers, torturously close, as he waited for her to reciprocate. "Sheppard…" she whispered.

"Yes?" he breathed, aquiver with anticipation.

"I...I'm sorry. I can't…"

His blood cooled in an instant. "Right, um...I'm the one who should be sorry. Not the right time for this. You need your rest." He sat back hurriedly, giving her hand an apologetic squeeze.

 _No, not the right time at all_ , she thought bitterly. _It never is. Not for a warrior._


	26. Pick Your Poison

Another day passed. Troi found it difficult to focus on her usual appointments. So when a page came through from Dr. Crusher to meet her in sickbay, she gladly excused herself from duty and left her office in a hurry.

As she stepped into the corridor, she bumped against a tall, sturdy shoulder. The commander looked down at her, his gaze changing from surprise to something softer. "Did you get the page?" he asked. "I wanted to stop by first, make sure you'd heard-"

"Yes I got the page," she answered curtly. She took off at a brisk pace, heading for the turbolift. Riker fell into step beside her.

"Deanna, look, I-"

"It's not the right time, Will. Please." She kept both her gaze and her voice level. Business-like. "Let's just see what Beverly has to say."

Riker's stomach churned. Though waiting had been agony, he hoped that an answer wouldn't be worse.

* * *

Kerry was unconscious and under sedation, but looking notably better. Her cheeks had plumped again and her skin was back to a healthy, pink glow. Crusher approached. She tried to smile at Riker and Troi, but the attempt faltered. "Well, I've stopped the bleeding," she said. "And the blood transfusion was a success." Riker exchanged a glance with Troi. Something in the doctor's tone told them there was more news. And that it probably wasn't good.

Crusher's eyes shifted to someone behind the commander. "Ah, Jean Luc! Just in time."

Picard made his way over to the group. He took in the sight of the resting young woman with a note of hope. "This looks promising," he remarked.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "Though I still have more work to do."

Troi's eye drifted to the now fading mark on Kerry's arm. "So this poison-is it what caused the hemorrhaging?"

Crusher drew in a deep breath. "Yes. I found an enzyme in her system that was attacking the blood platelets, preventing them from clotting. It means those dog creatures need only to bite their prey once, and then wait."

Riker raised an eyebrow. "Wait for what-for their prey to bleed to death?"

"Perhaps. But...well, Kerry mentioned seeing a herd of animals just before the dogs attacked. She said they reminded her of her family's horses." Crusher smiled fondly at the young woman on the cot. "It was during one of her more lucid bouts. I didn't think much of it at the time. But once I started thinking about this poison and how it works…"

Troi must have sensed something under the doctor's calm exterior, because she reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Go on, Beverly," she urged.

"Well, it makes sense now; how the dogs get a hold of their prey. See, this poison-it doesn't just create a fresh blood trail for the predator to follow. It also affects the victim's brain-the prefrontal cortex, to be exact." Her expression grew somber. "That would inhibit their ability to think clearly, to reason. Down on the planet, I imagine it would cause the wounded prey to bolt from the safety of the herd. Then, given their weakened state from blood loss, the dog would have a chance to swoop in and claim its kill."

Riker flinched. He had been consoling himself with Carmen's knack for survival. But now he saw her as one of those helpless creatures, away from its herd, surrounded by predators waiting to swoop in. All while he waited in the safety of the Enterprise.

"Well can its effects be reversed?" Picard asked.

Crusher sighed wearily. "There are limited options when it comes to finding something that can cross the blood-brain barrier. I haven't found a combination that works yet, but I'm still trying. In the meantime, at least Kerry won't lose any more blood."

Troi squeezed her shoulder. "Thank-you Beverly. You'll find something. I know you will."

But Crusher did not appear heartened. "The thing is…"

Riker's throat tightened. "What?" he demanded.

She shifted her stance in order to face him. "From what I've heard, Carmen's injuries were worse. By now, she's probably lost a significant amount of blood. She won't be able to fend for herself. I'm sorry, Will, but...most likely, we are already too late for her."

Troi interjected. "What if Allan has found her?"

"That would better her chances," Crusher admitted. "Though...she won't be thinking clearly for much longer. She may harm him. Or she may try to run."

"I have to go down there, sir," Riker insisted. His voice strained impatiently. "I've manually docked the Enterprise before. I can fly a shuttle through that storm."

Picard tapped at his combadge. "Mister Laforge-any change in atmospheric conditions?"

The lieutenant's voice answered him. "No, sir. Still looking at two more days. Even then…it won't be a very fun flight."

"Two days it is." He met his first officer's determined gaze. "I can't risk it, Number One."

Riker squared his jaw. Then he realized that Troi was looking back at him, a sorrowful light in her eyes. Angry as she still was with him, he knew that she was just as desperate to get to Carmen.

"In the meantime," Picard continued, turning now to Crusher. "Can you prepare some sort of treatment for them to take to the surface? Kerry will still need you here."

"I'll set a hypospray with the plasma protein. That will take care of the bleeding. As for the neural effects...if i can find the right combination to counter the poison, then I should be able to provide something."

"Good." The captain nodded approvingly. "You have two days to make it so."


	27. Seeing Things

**A/N-Bnewall1-Hehe glad you liked it! Thanks for the review!**

 **Angel897-I always enjoy your reviews :-)**

 **Zara08-Aww yay! Your review made me so happy! I'll keep the chapters coming!**

 **Ronald40-You'd better catch up ;-)**

* * *

It was dark when Carmen woke next. No blue light of the lantern filled the small room. Just the wail of the wind and the smell of dust. Anguished memories still coursed through her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she found herself in the throes of those final moments. She could see the smoldering remnants of the Enterprise. She could hear her own scream. She could feel herself tumbling through space in her wounded fighter, no one left to save her, nothing left to fight for...

Panic urged Carmen to her feet. She leaned against the wall, trying to steady the breath that wheezed from her throat. There were stairs somewhere, she remembered. An escape.

Someone stirred in the dark. "Carmen? What's the matter?" It was Sheppard's groggy voice. He lifted himself from his place on the blanket.

"I have to...I can't stay…" She forced her feet forward, feeling along the wall and moving away from him.

"What do you mean?"

"We...we have to get out of here. They are coming."

His eyes widened with worry. "No, Carmen. You're not thinking straight. Something's wrong-"

"Get away from me!" she shrieked as he came within inches of touching her shoulder.

"Okay. Okay." He lifted his hands in surrender, forcing back the the surge of apprehension that rose in his chest. Her eyes looked like somebody else's all of a sudden."Just don't go, okay? Please?"

Her gaze, wild and darting, landed on the bat'leth leaning against the wall near her feet. Her fingers twitched.

"No-don't. It's me, Carmen," Sheppard pleaded. He glanced at the bat'leth as well. Even if he could somehow reach it before her, he knew the chances of talking her down were better than trying to get between her and a weapon. "It's just me. We're safe here-"

"Safe? _Safe_? There's no such thing! Don't you get it? The Federation left us to die!"

Sympathy flooded Sheppard's eyes. He could see the pain laid bare across her face. "Yes, there is such thing as safe. I feel it when I'm with you. Do you remember the shuttle ride, at the start of all this?" He dared a step forward. "I hate shuttles. My father died in one. But _you_ made me feel safe. Think about it, Carmen. Try to remember." Sheppard stepped forward again, until the bat'leth was nearly touching his foot. "Please...let me be your safety now. Something is happening to you, but you have to hold on. I promise I won't let you die out here."

Carmen searched his eyes. Those transparent eyes. And as she did, the fog slowly cleared. Her mind came back within reach. She sank to the floor, letting her back scrape along the wall. "The storm...we're waiting out the storm?"

Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief. "That's right. Then someone will come for us." He crouched at her side and moved the bat'leth away. "Carmen, can you remember at all what they did to you? What's going on?"

She closed her eyes. "The one with the accent. He said something about the bite on my neck. Said I was going the same way as Callahan."

"Who's Callahan?"

"I think he died." Her words lingered heavily in the dust-coated air. After a few moments of grave silence, broken only by the wind, she spoke again. "Sheppard...you should leave. I might hurt you next time."

"No, Carmen. I'm not going anywhere." He placed a comforting hand on her knee. "It's alright. Not much longer now, I promise. We just have to stay hidden from those Romulans for a couple more days-"

"Wait-Romulans?" she interrupted.

Sheppard stared at her, bewildered. "Yes. The Romulans that took you."

"Romulans didn't take me."

Each paused for a confused moment. "Did you see their faces?" he asked.

"Well...no. Did you?"

"No. But I did see their shuttle. It was definitely Romulan."

Carmen leaned her head against the wall, trying to process this new information. But the edges of her senses were beginning to fray again. "Why would Wharton...how did he get…"

"Carmen!" Sheppard reached out and caught her just in time as she fell to the side. "You're going out again. Here, don't say anything else. Just get some sleep." He guided her the rest of the way down until she was lying on one shoulder.

"No. I can't. I'll...I'll see it again." She swallowed fearfully. Already her head felt as though she were tumbling through space in her doomed fighter, about to witness the bitter end once more. "I've got to stay awake. I've got to..."

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear to keep it from falling into her face. "Ramhaj?" he asked. She nodded.

"How does Counselor Troi usually help you?"

"The Falls. She takes me to Janaran Falls." Carmen pointed to her temple. "She can help me see things."

"Hmm." Sheppard drew his brow down. "Well, I don't have the same Betazoid abilities. But...perhaps I can still help you see things." He stretched out parallel to her, staring up at the dark ceiling. "When I had nightmares, my mom used to sit by my bed and talk to me about baseball. She'd act like she was one of those sportscasters at an old-timey game. I'd fall asleep and dream that I was in the stands. That I saw Babe Ruth himself walking up to the plate. You've heard of Babe Ruth, right?"

A feeble smile pulled at the corner of Carmen's mouth. "Yes."

"Well, picture this. It's the first of October. 1932. Wrigley Field." Sheppard crossed his feet and folded his hands atop his stomach. "It's getting cold out there in the stands. But those Yankees look cool as a cucumber…."

Carmen's mind was already on its way out. But as she listened to the wind blow outside of the cellar, it revealed a stadium full of people. Players stood in the dugout wearing white, pinstriped uniforms and long blue socks. She could smell the brisk October air and the red dirt of the infield and the popcorn being sold by wandering vendors. Everything looked just as she used to imagine it, back when her father would talk about baseball. Back when she felt safe.

Sheppard didn't make it through the first inning before he heard her breathing change. It slowed to a peaceful, regular rhythm. He glanced over and found her asleep. Then, smiling, he rolled to his side and followed suit.


	28. Better Judgment

The next day, Troi tried to finish out her appointments, but found concentration too elusive. So she rescheduled her remaining sessions for after the rescue mission and then made her way back to her quarters for a cup of Jestral tea and maybe some dessert.

To her surprise, the dessert was already waiting for her. So was Commander Riker. "I hope you don't mind," he said. "But I figured you could use a sundae." He pushed it across the table towards her like a peace offering.

Troi walked over to the table. She picked up the bowl, examining it with a disinterested eye. Then she promptly turned and dropped it into a trash bin.

Riker winced. But one setback never made him quit before. Both as a commander and as Troi's imzadi. He cleared his throat as he rose from the table. "Okay, maybe I was wrong."

"Yes. Maybe we both were." She folded her arms tightly and looked away. "Maybe...we shouldn't have tried to fix something that wasn't broken."

The commander leaned over the chair he had just been sitting in. Her words had tied his stomach into knots. "What are you talking about?"

"We were happy, weren't we? We made it work. Before Carmen, I mean." Troi met his eye. A wounded smile flickered across her face.

"Well, yes it worked, but-"

"Carmen was happy, too, thinking that's how it was. I just...I think it would be more stable. For all of us."

Riker pushed off the chair with a huff and strode over to her. "No. Don't say that." He ran his hands along the outside of her arms, which were still folded tightly. "I got scared, okay? That's all. This is still very new for me, you know?"

Troi pulled out one of her hands and placed it over one of his. "I can't keep doing this, Will. When things are good, you stick around. Then, once the water gets deep, you want your freedom again. That's how it's always been."

"But...I love you, Deanna," he insisted, a hint of desperation straining his voice.

"I love you, too, Will. I always have." Her demeanor softened. "That won't change. Just promise me...promise that you won't run from Carmen, too. Not now that we've convinced her to stop running."

"I don't _want_ to run. I don't want to go back to the way things were. Listen to me, please-"

" _Crusher to Riker_." His pleas were interrupted by his own combadge. Riker's shoulders sank with a sigh. He wasn't done fighting for her, for them. But for now, it would have to wait.

"Riker here. What is it?" he replied.

" _Can you come to sickbay? I have some good news_."

* * *

This time, as Riker and Troi arrived in sickbay, they found Kerry bright-eyed and awake. She was apologizing profusely to Captain Picard, who stood next to Crusher at the young woman's bedside.

Crusher looked up and greeted them with a warm, weary smile. "We did it. We finally found something that worked."

"That's great!" Troi gushed.

But Riker looked only mildly relieved. "How soon can you make a dose for Carmen?"

"It will require three doses. I can send them all with Bettencourt when you leave tomorrow," Crusher informed him. "He'll also perform a field blood transfusion for her."

"Why? Wouldn't it be better to just bring her back here?"

"No, Number One. You will not be returning immediately." Picard had finished his discourse with Kerry, and now urged the commander away from the cot to speak with him discreetly. "I need you to try and locate these...these shadow people. Find out what they are doing on that planet."

Riker's forehead furrowed. "I thought you were under the impression that they were a part of Carmen's hallucinations?"

"I am still inclined to believe that, yes." He paused. But Riker had worked with Picard long enough to know when his captain was struggling beneath that stony countenance of his. He stepped closer and lowered his voice.

"If I may ask-what is it, sir? What do you know?"

Picard smiled at him shrewdly. "Nothing for sure. Not yet. Now go and assemble a team for briefing. You leave early tomorrow."

* * *

After Riker and Troi had left sickbay, Crusher wandered over to Picard as he stood facing one of the small windows. "Did you tell him?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"About your conversation with Admiral Leyton."

"No, no." Picard turned away from the window, shaking his head. "I thought it best to leave that part out. He already has a grudge against the man for what happened in San Francisco. I didn't want it clouding his judgment down there."

"Clouding his judgment?" she scoffed. "This is Will we're talking about."

"Yes. But it is also Carmen."


	29. Voices

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! You guys keep me going! Expect more mystery and intrigue...and angry Rikers...and some answers, too, lol.**

 **SophieDevereauxtoo-I'm so happy you are liking it so far! Don't worry, more chapters coming right up :-).**

* * *

Down on Zinor, Carmen's mind continued to unravel. She wove in and out of reality, often unable to distinguish which was which. But Sheppard's stolid presence became like a tether. When she found herself wavering precariously on the edge, he'd pull her back to Wrigley Field. When she woke in the night, crying out names of the dying as though she could save them this time, he'd be there to remind her that she wasn't alone. To remind her that the Enterprise was still somewhere out there, waiting to bring them home. For here, there was such a place as home, and such a thing as safe. At least for now.

Another bleak and dusty day broke over the desert. Sheppard rolled to his back, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of dawn that slanted in from the hole above the stairs. Dull gray walls surrounded the young ensign. It reminded him of the inside of the caves, but these walls had been smoothed by an ancient hand. There was something forlorn in the reminder of Zinor's lost inhabitants. Echoes of their absence seemed to resonate from the lonely mountains, as if the very landscape longed for its people.

Sheppard's gaze eventually drifted to the young woman beside him. Her skin had turned sallow and sickly. Sweat dampened the hair to her scalp. The bandage on her neck sagged, saturated with blood. Time was running out.

His hand absent-mindedly went to his combadge. All attempts to get in touch with the Enterprise had thus far been in vain. Nothing was getting through that storm. No pages, no rescue shuttles. Carmen was rarely cogent enough for a conversation anymore. Loneliness squeezed in around him, oppressive as the dark silence. If only he could hear the comfort of another human voice...

And then he did.

But the voice was not comforting. Nor did it come from his combadge. It came from a gust of wind that sailed over the steps and down into the cellar. Sheppard stiffened. Slowly, quietly, he sat up and strained his hearing. Yet for several long, anxious moments, the only sound Sheppard heard was the frightened beating of his heart.

"How did she die?" Carmen's voice, rasping like gravel beneath a boot, broke the silence.

Sheppard's eyes darted from the stairs to the young woman. Her own eyes could barely open anymore. The right one was still badly swollen with a purple ring beneath it.

"Your mother," she prompted. "You never told me how she died."

"My-? Oh. Uh, Varnay's Disease." He cast a quick glance back at the stairs, wondering if he should tell her about the voices or not.

"That takes a long time, doesn't it?"

"Eight months, for her."

A small, sad smile cracked her lips. "That's not long at all, actually."

Sheppard's posture eased. He found himself touched by her soft, sympathetic tone. "No, it's...it's alright. At least I got to say goodbye. Some people don't even have that much." He cast her a sympathetic smile of his own.

"When did it happen?" Carmen pushed herself upright, one cheek still red from being pressed against the ground.

Sheppard was about to answer when another burst of wind came charging into the cellar. And there it was again-the voices. Fear gripped his chest anew.

"I said when did it happen?" Carmen prodded.

His hand went to the phaser at his belt. "Did you hear that?"

"Don't be afraid. Just talk to me."

He looked over at her, puzzled by her persistence. Then he realized what she was doing. She must have sensed his fear. "You're trying to distract me again, aren't you?" he said, reaching out and giving her hand a grateful squeeze. "Well I appreciate it, but I think we need to lay low for a minute. I heard something."

"No...keep talking...please…"

Then the voices sounded again. This time, they were close enough for Sheppard to make out words. "...wouldn't stay in the city."

"There's no way she made it to the caves. You saw what sort of shape she was in."

"I'm tellin' ya, they should be right here," an accented voice insisted. "The tricorder said...aw, hell. It's doin' it again."

"Doing what again?" someone asked, a hint of nerves hiding behind the question.

"Just like before, remember? Look, it went from two life forms to six...eight...nine…"

Sheppard's pulse raced. That had happened to their tricorder, too. Just before the Nokk Qoten showed up.

"Carmen," he whispered, crawling to her side as she sat slumped against the wall. "Can you still hear me?"

Her eyes flew wide all of a sudden. "The Kos'Karii!" she shrieked. "The Kos-" Sheppard hurriedly clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shh, shh, we have to stay quiet!"

She ripped his hand away. "Can't you hear them? They want to know where we are. They want to-"

"It's the Romulans," he explained. "We can't let them find us."

"We have to get out of here! We have to escape!" She scrambled to her feet, but Sheppard threw himself at her midsection and tackled her back to the floor.

"Carmen, please!" he urged, doing his best to keep her pinned as she thrashed desperately beneath him. "I'm trying to help! Listen to me!" Then one of her arms broke loose. She threw it back, smashing her elbow into his nose. Immediately, hot blood streamed down his mouth and chin. The pain momentarily dazed him. But a moment was all Carmen needed to pull herself free and bolt for the stairs.


	30. Breaking Through

Stormy winds prowled the shuttle like a hungry beast, knocking it about the planet's turbulent skies. The interior lights flickered. The walls groaned. The floor bucked, and Worf's face went crashing into the console in a decidedly undignified manner.

"Sorry." Riker grinned apologetically from the pilot's seat.

"You appear to be enjoying yourself, commander," Worf scowled.

"Just happy to be moving finally, that's all."

"Well if we could move a little _less_ , it would be much appreciated."

"Come on now," Riker said, chuckling under his breath. "You're the one who gave up the tournament to be here."

Worf fixed his uniform. "It is a matter of honor. A warrior does not let a friend face danger alone."

"Thanks Worf, but I think I can handle a little danger."

"I was speaking of Carmen."

Behind them, Troi and Bettencourt snickered in their seats.

"Something funny back there?" Riker called, drawing together a mockingly stern brow.

Bettencourt's smile fled. Troi, however, answered eagerly. "Oh yes. Shall I explain it to you?"

Worf cast her an appreciative glance. Riker merely shook his head and turned his attention back to the controls, a wry grin pulling at his lips. Things had been strained between them over the last few days, leaving him with a dull and empty ache. He could not remember the last time being alone had felt so lonely. But in that moment, everything felt refreshingly normal again.

Troi smiled to herself as well. For she had felt the same thing-a brief flicker of something familiar, something warm, breaking through the tension. It had been miserable, not being able to mourn together. To worry together. To sleep together. She had expected him to put up more of a fight, but... _perhaps this is what he wanted? Is this even what I wanted?_

Sighing, she cast out her thoughts in favor of the impending mission. Her gaze landed on a small window to her left. She tried to catch a glimpse of the landscape below, but could see nothing through the furious swirls of red. Then an idea crossed her mind. Maybe she could hear something...

Closing her eyes, she reached out in her mind. _Please, Carmen. Tell me you're alright. Tell me Allan found you._

Somewhere in the distance, she could feel another presence. Encouraged, she tried harder. _It's going to be alright. We're coming. Just tell me where you are._

 _Leave me alone,_ came the hostile answer. _I know of your ways. I know of the Kos'Karii!_

"The Kos'Karii?" Troi said aloud. Worf's head whipped around, recognition flaring behind his dark eyes.

"Why did you say that word, counselor?"

"Carmen is the one who said it."

Riker's jaw slackened. "You heard her? She's alive? She's okay?"

"It was her, but...something is wrong. She didn't recognize me. What does that mean, Worf? The Kos'Karii?"

"The Kos'Karii lure Klingon souls to the underworld," he explained. "They do it by imitating the voice of someone close, someone trusted."

The commander's grip tightened on the controls. "It's the poison," he declared. "Her mind's been affected. Bettencourt-"

"Yes sir?"

"Have that antidote ready to go. We land in five."

"Aye sir."

The shuttle gave one final groan as it broke through the thick layer of storm clouds, mist still trailing from its wings. The hole left behind closed seamlessly above them and the sky became like a vast red wall, standing between them and the Enterprise. On Zinor's surface, swarms of dust lay siege to the crumbling remains of an ancient city. And through the dust, shadows stretched out in dawn's bleak light.

Riker's hand flew to his combadge. "This is Riker to Sheppard. Do you read me?" An anxious silence filled the shuttle as each ear awaited the reply. But none came. "We'll be on the surface soon. I need your location." More silence. "Your location, ensign!"

"Maybe there's still too much interference?" Troi offered.

"Maybe," Riker muttered. Yet he couldn't help but worry that it was something much less benevolent.


	31. Options

**A/N: Sorry it took me TEN freaking days to update! Husband has been working 12+ hour shifts, so things have been very busy around here! Basically, pesky real life has been interfering with my writing time lol. But as things are finally slowing down again, I promise not to take so long for your next update. Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. Zara08-I love your reviews so much! Hahaha the Klingon date one made me laugh really hard. And more chapters coming right up, since you asked so nicely! :-D**

* * *

 _"Ready to land._ _I need your location and I need it now, Sheppard._ _"_

Sheppard cringed. The commander was beginning to sound angry. Somehow, despite the fact that he was only ever trying to help, he always wound up on Riker's bad side. But the young man found himself unable to answer any of the pages, for his hands were full battling a different Riker. Carmen struggled against him with all her waning strength as he pinned her behind half a wall, trying to stay hidden.

She had bolted straight into the midst of three masked figures prowling near the surface of their cellar refuge. Her sudden appearance had startled them as much as it had startled her, giving Sheppard a chance to catch up. He managed to pull her away just as the masked figures recovered from their surprise, beginning a treacherous chase that led them through the ancient, decaying city. It was here that Carmen had collapsed. But she was far from done.

"Didn't you hear him? That was the commander!" Sheppard urged. "He's looking for us! If I could just answer-" She snarled something Klingon in reply. "Please, Carmen," he pleaded, his voice breaking with desperation as he held her down tightly. "Come back. I need you to come back."

"This wasn't very smart of you, boy." A taunt drifted towards them suddenly, chilling Sheppard's blood. "You should have left with your team. Stayed out of this."

Carmen's head whipped towards the sound of the voice. " _Bihnuch!_ "

"Shhhh…" Sheppard warned, sliding one of his hands down to cover her mouth. His heart pounded with fear. His mind raced for some kind of a plan. Surely they had options, if only he could think clearly enough. _Think, Allan, think._ He glanced about at their surroundings. The half-wall was the only protection they had. The other walls of the structure had crumbled to dust, leaving the two ensigns vulnerable from behind. Sheppard's gaze darted to the young woman. They might have a chance to run, but how far would she make it?

"Just give her up now," the voice continued. "She won't even remember that you betrayed her. Soon enough, her mind will be gone forever. There's no hope for her. But there's still hope for you."

Sheppard could hear the sound of dirt crunching beneath their antagonizer's boots. Slowly the young man lifted himself, one hand pinned between Carmen's shoulder blades and the other over her mouth, until he could just barely see over the jagged top of the wall that hid them from view.

A black figure stood several paces away, shadowy and phantom-like through the swirls of sand. He swivelled side to side, wielding a phaser aloft. Sheppard drew his knee over Carmen's back, freeing one hand to reach for his own weapon.

One shot. He just needed one good shot. He ran his thumb over the dial of his phaser, ensuring it was set to stun. Then he held it close to his chest, waiting for the figure to swivel away from him.

"Don't even think about it." An icy warning stopped Sheppard in his tracks. He spun around to find two more shadowy figures closing in from behind. Carmen thrashed beneath him, surging with adrenaline at the sight of their new threat. And just like that, Sheppard found himself out of options.

* * *

"Worf, do you have it yet?" Riker asked, wiping a hand across his brow impatiently.

"Yes, sir. Locking in the coordinates to his combadge now."

The commander grunted in relief. Then he altered his flight path accordingly, swooping low over the city and hoping to scatter any predators that might be below. Still, he couldn't shake a sense of foreboding. Why hadn't Sheppard answered him? Was Carmen with him or not? "Perform a sensor sweep," Riker ordered, bracing himself for the results. "Is Sheppard alone?"

But Worf did not reply right away. When Riker cast him a questioning glance, he found the Klingon staring at his screen in disbelief. "The sensors must be malfunctioning, sir. It says there are dozens of lifeforms."

A small gasp escaped Troi's lips from behind them. "What do you mean dozens?" Riker demanded.

"The Nokk Qoten," Troi whispered. Her eyes had glossed over in a way that disturbed the medical officer beside her.

"Kerry was talking about those," Bettencourt said, swallowing nervously. "She claimed that-"

"Let's keep a level head, everybody," Riker reminded them, pushing the gut-wrenching possibilities out of his own mind and resuming his commander's mantle. "We've got a mission to do. Now prepare for landing. And also company."


	32. The Tight Grip of Fear

"Just let her go, son. We'll take it from here," the smaller of the shadows instructed. Sheppard detected an accent, but nothing remotely Romulan. It sounded more like an Earth accent, something with a British ring to it.

"What do you want with her? Why are you doing this?" the young man demanded, keeping one arm wrapped around Carmen's waist as she made new attempts to bolt. In his other hand, a phaser flicked back and forth between their two encroaching enemies.

"Those are details you need not concern yourself with. Come on then." He beckoned with his black, gloved hand impatiently.

Sheppard sidled down the half-wall, pulling Carmen along with him. He kept her between himself and the wall, straining his mind for a plan. They were quickly running out of wall. And time, he guessed.

Then he caught sight of the third shadow figure closing in from the other side of the low wall. "Back off! I'm warning you!" Sheppard tried his best to sound imposing.

Carmen clawed at his arm. Her panic steadily grew into a fervor. "They're coming!" she shrieked. "Don't you hear them? They're almost here! The Kos'Karii! The _Kos'Karii!_ "

"Shut her up, Wharton! Let's get them and go!" the one behind the wall snapped.

"You've got a clearer shot!" the other retorted.

The one with the accent grumbled something under his breath. "Oh for the love of..." Suddenly Sheppard felt a sharp sting of pain in his side. It ripped through his body and down into each of his arms and legs like a cold fire. He fell to the ground, stunned by the accented man's phaser.

Carmen took off the second Sheppard's arm loosened from around her waist. Phaser blasts tore through the wall in a jagged line as she made her mad dash. At last, one of the shots met its mark and she went down hard as a stone.

Sheppard groaned, trying to rally his muscles into movement. Desperation clamored inside the dazed fog of his mind. His vision shimmered and swam, lengthening the three dark silhouettes as they surrounded the fallen pair.

Something happened next that he could not comprehend. Their three attackers started screaming and thrashing. Sheppard thought he saw arms holding them against the wall, but no faces or bodies were attached to these arms. Fear and adrenaline coursed through his useless muscles.

Then a tingling sensation crept up his fingertips and into the edges of his mind, dispelling the fog. With a cry of effort, Sheppard pulled his knees beneath him. He could just barely make out Carmen's shape as she tried to drag herself away from the fray up ahead. "I'm coming!" he cried, crawling towards the strangled screams that pierced the dust-filled air.

Making sure to give their entrapped enemies a wide berth, Sheppard made his way over to the whimpering young woman. Then, grabbing a hold of her arm, he heaved them both to their feet. "Go," he urged. "You have to go! I'll be right behind you!" He nudged her towards the road and she set off in a stumbling run. The cries of the shadow people fell behind them, mingling with the cries of the wind.

Dust flew into Sheppard's eyes as he sought to keep Carmen within his vision. Ruins took shape beside the road, their edges dulled by sand and time. The sun had lifted higher above the blurred horizon, but great red clouds attempted to swallow the fiery ball whole.

Carmen's strength dwindled. She collapsed on the road, sprawling onto her back. "Carmen!" Sheppard called, spurring his own weary legs forward. Too late he caught sight of a stone lying in his path. His foot struck the jagged edge of this stone and he pitched forward, throwing his hands out to break his fall. No sooner had he hit the ground than he felt an arm wrapping across his back. His mind flashed to the disembodied arms jutting out of the wall. He shouted in surprise and lashed out at his new attacker.

"Allan! It's okay, Allan! It's me!" Sheppard heard the comforting and familiar voice of Counselor Troi in his ear.

He stopped struggling and swallowed, his heart pounding in his throat. "C-Counselor?"

"Yes," she smiled. "You're alright."

"But Carmen! She-she-"

"She'll be alright, too."

Commander Riker appeared, kneeling protectively over the motionless young woman as he scanned their surroundings for danger. "Worf," he called. "Go on ahead. Secure the area."

"Aye, sir," the Klingon replied, running headlong towards the danger from which the two junior officers had just fled. Relief flooded Sheppard's chest. The tight grip of fear loosened from around his heart.

A middle-aged officer approached, with arms and legs long enough to be called lanky. His eyes matched the blue of his uniform and his hair was slicked back over his scalp in glossy, dark waves. He crouched next to the commander, a hypospray in hand.

Riker's demeanor softened as he turned his attention to Carmen. Gently, he tilted her head to the side to expose a blood-soaked bandage. "Here, Bettencourt," he prompted. "This must be it." Bettencourt peeled the bandage back, revealing several long, deep gashes that glistened with blood. But as he drew the hypospray close to her neck, Carmen reached up suddenly and tore it away.

"Carmen!" Riker scolded. She hurled the device across the sand, sending Bettencourt scrambling after it.

"No," she rasped. "Don't do it. Don't...take me back…" She rolled to her stomach and tried to get up, but her knees buckled beneath her.

"She's not herself," Sheppard shakily interjected. "Something's happened. There were these creatures-"

"We know about the dogs," Riker snapped, cutting him off. "Bettencourt! Today, please!"

Bettencourt dug around, trying to find where the hypospray had sunk into the sand. "One moment, sir!" he called over his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Riker attempted to soothe the young woman. "Hey, hey. We're trying to stop the bleeding, that's all. It's me, Carmen. I'm here. I've got you."

"My turn...it was...my turn…" She grabbed Riker's sleeve, pulling herself onto her side. "The crash…it was my turn...the end of the line..."

"Bettencourt!" Riker clenched his jaw at the wounded, glazed-over look in her eyes.

"Got it!" Bettencourt finally closed his fingers around the discarded device and then made his way back to the commander.

Riker cupped the back of Carmen's head, keeping her from turning towards the hypospray. "Just relax," he coaxed. "You'll feel better when you wake up."

"No!" she cried, beginning to squirm. "Don't do this again! Please!" Riker leaned over her small frame, pinning her in place. "Please! Don't take me back-" The hypospray hissed. "Back...to the...beginning…" She slumped to the ground, out cold.


	33. Help

**A/N-Angel897-This chapter will start to answer your question ;-)**

 **Zara08-Hehe sorry not sorry for the cliffhangers! But glad that the last chapter made up for it. More chapters on their way!**

 **Ronald40-Thanks for the reviews. :-)**

* * *

"Someone's coming," Bettencourt cautioned, rising to his feet. The air stiffened with tension. Sheppard's head whipped around, following Bettencourt's line of sight. A figure formed in the dust-clouded air, making straight for the group at a brisk jog.

"Get behind me. Everyone," Riker ordered. Troi helped Sheppard to his feet and kept an arm across his back as he hobbled behind the commander. He could feel a hot trickle of blood running down his shin from the bad tumble he had taken on the road. But he bit his lip against the pain and took up post at the unconscious Carmen's side, who looked almost peaceful in her sedated state.

The figure was nearly upon them. "Commander!" they hailed. A collective sigh of relief rose up from the others. It was only Worf.

"What's the situation?" Riker called back. Though his posture had eased, his hand remained at his waist, next to his phaser.

The Klingon drew close enough for Sheppard to read bewilderment in the lines of his brow. "There does not appear to _be_ a situation," Worf replied.

Riker glanced back at Troi and the two exchanged a puzzled glance. "What do you mean?"

"I found nothing, sir. No lifeforms of any kind."

The commander mirrored Worf's bewilderment. Then he half-turned, letting his gaze fall on Sheppard. His bewilderment slowly morphed into suspicion. "Explain yourself, ensign," he demanded. "When you didn't answer my pages, I had assumed it was because you'd run into danger."

"We _did_ run into danger, sir," he protested. "I don't understand. They can't be that far. Unless…" An involuntary shudder seized the young man as he envision those disembodied arms snatching, clawing, and grasping at their enemies.

"Unless what?" Riker pressed.

"The Nokk Qoten...or whatever they were…came right out of the wall and grabbed them. It was the only way we were able to escape. Maybe they did something. Took them somewhere, I don't know."

"Took who?" Troi inquired.

Sheppard hesitated. He wasn't sure who they were dealing with anymore. "Well, I had assumed they were Romulans, after seeing their shuttle. But Carmen insisted they weren't. And after what just happened...I think she was right."

"Are you talking about the shadow people?" Riker turned the rest of the way around.

"Yes sir. They-"

"Are you telling me you saw them? You actually saw them? With your own eyes?"

Sheppard nodded, taken aback by Riker's sudden intrigue. "Yes, I...I scouted them out. They were holding Carmen prisoner. One of them said a name back there; Carmen mentioned it before. It..um...it was…" Desperately he searched his mind, but the name continued to elude him. "I'm sorry. My head must still be a little fuzzy. One of them stunned us with their phaser."

"We need to get you help," Troi insisted, looking him over worriedly. A patch of dried blood beneath his nose was beginning to cake in the coarse desert air. One pant leg had torn at the knee and a fresh, bright red stream ran down his shin into the dirt.

"It's alright," he deflected, trying to draw his shoulders up convincingly.

But as Riker likewise studied the young man, his suspicion only burgeoned. "Sheppard, where did all that blood come from?"

"Oh, uh...I fell," he explained. "And...Carmen...she hasn't exactly been herself."

Troi's gaze softened, but Riker's suspicion remained. "And those dog creatures-they didn't touch you?"

A sudden defensiveness flared in Sheppard's chest as he followed the commander's line of questioning. "No sir, I swear!"

He felt a reassuring hand on his arm. "He's telling the truth," Troi insisted to the others.

Riker clicked his teeth, unconvinced. "Well let's finish this discussion later, after we've made camp. Carmen still needs help, too."

He bent down and gathered Carmen into his arms, her raven dark hair cascading back towards the ground. Sheppard stood in place, his face wrenched in confusion. "You mean-we aren't returning to the Enterprise?"

"Not right away," the commander answered, and headed off without further explanation. Sheppard cast Troi a quizzical glance, but she merely patted his arm and then followed Riker down the abandoned road.

* * *

The morning wore on as Zinor's sun climbed higher and higher behind a massive army of clouds. Now and then, the clouds broke formation and daylight fled through, seeking refuge amidst the scattered remains of the city. And though the storm's power waned, it continued to march across the sky, vanquishing each ray of sunlight with dark, dusty shadows.

Sheppard found himself back at the mountainside villa. Haykov had given Commander Riker the coordinates before the rescue team's departure, and after an initial inspection, Worf deemed it secure. Then he left to perform a more thorough perimeter check.

Bettencourt worked on Carmen in one of the back rooms, with Riker trying his best not to hover. Meanwhile, Troi insisted on fixing Sheppard up. They sat near a steadily burning fire in the vast, open space of the front hall. The young man's eyes followed a trail of smoke as it billowed up to the rocky ceiling and then out of the gaping spaces that used to be windows. The commander didn't appear to share Carmen's concerns when it came to giving away their location. In fact, he seemed to welcome the risk.

The young woman wandered through Sheppard's mind. It felt strange, not to be watching over her anymore. There had been something desperate yet sacred about being the only two. And the presence of the other officers had alleviated both of those sentiments. She was safe now, yes. But that also meant that she no longer needed him. Sheppard realized that he hadn't minded the responsibility, even at the cost of a bloody nose or two.

"In case Will forgets, I just wanted to thank you," Troi said, the dermal regenerator humming as she passed it over the injury on his leg.

"Hmm?" Sheppard broke away from his thoughts.

"For finding Carmen. That's the second time you've helped lead us to her."

His memory turned to a cold, coastal breeze and the dull roar of a baseball game. "Oh, well...San Francisco was kind of an accident," he said, a lopsided smile pulling on his lips at the memory. And this...she would have done it for any of us."

"But you did it for her. And it must have been hard."

Sheppard cleared his throat. "I didn't mind, really-"

"I mean because of your mother. Did it remind you of those final months with her? When she was ill?"

Sheppard bit down on his cheek. The counselor had a way of doing that, of seeing into those private moments of struggle. He knew that-like Carmen-she could only read emotions and not his mind. But sometimes her abilities bordered on uncanny.

"Yes," Sheppard quietly admitted. For a moment, he felt as if he were back in her office, back on her peaceful, purple couch. "There were times...when she didn't recognize me…" He stopped to clear his throat again, but could not rid himself of a lump that had formed there. Then, shaking his head, he brought himself back to the old mountain villa. "She'll be okay, right?"

Troi smiled at him soothingly as she retracted the dermal regenerator. "Yes, I think so. Dr. Crusher was able to come up with something to counter the poison. Kerry had already made a full recovery by the time we left."

 _Kerry!_ Sheppard suddenly remembered that she had been bitten as well. Guilt and relief washed across his mind like waves of opposing tides. Before he could say anything, however, footsteps sounded across the hard floor. Both he and Troi looked up to find the commander striding into their midst.

"Well?" Troi prodded.

"The blood transfusion is going well. But it will take several hours," Riker replied. His gaze shifted to the young man. "So you should rest up while we wait."

"Yes, sir." Sheppard rose with a respectful nod.

"But one thing, first…" Riker sighed heavily, folding his arms across his chest. Sheppard paused, trying not to fidget as he waited. "Haykov told us that you refused to leave with the rest of the team."

"That's true, sir."

"He was your commanding officer for the away mission." Riker's voice deepened to a rebuke as took a step forward. The fire cast his shadow on the wall behind him, and he seemed suddenly twice as large. And twice as intimidating. "Defying a direct order like that is insubordination. The Enterprise is Star Fleet's flagship. We don't endorse that kind of insubordination. Especially not from young, new ensigns. I'm putting you on probation when we return."

Sheppard's stomach tied into knots. He folded his hands behind his back to keep from wringing them. "Understood, sir."

Riker grunted. "That being said…" He huffed out a breath, summoning his next two words as though they gave him great difficulty. "Thank you."

Sheppard froze. He wasn't sure he had heard the commander correctly. But he didn't dare ask him to repeat himself. So he simply looked up, a tentative smile fighting for life on his lips.

"Now go." Riker's gruffness returned. "Rest up. I don't want to stay down here any longer than we have to."

"Yes, sir." With a duck of his head, Sheppard scampered off to one of the small sleeping rooms. Riker's gratitude had been fleeting, begrudging. But it was gratitude nonetheless. _Maybe he won't kill me after all,_ Sheppard thought, stifling a wry laugh. _At least until he finds out about me and Carmen._


	34. The Visitor

After Sheppard withdrew, Riker wandered over and took a seat next to Troi. She flashed him a smile, and though it was amicable on the surface, she wore it between them like a shield. Nevertheless, he scooted closer. The fire crackled in the silence. An eerie haze of the late, overcast morning floated around them.

"So…" Riker began. "What do you think?"

"I think you were too quick to dismiss Allan." She leaned back, resting on her palms and gazing into the flames.

Riker's brows drew together. "You mean Sheppard? Geordi uh...Geordi mentioned that you know him."

"Yes. He's been coming in about once a month for a counseling session, ever since he was assigned to us."

"Why?"

She tilted her head towards him. Half her face glowed in the fire's soft, crimson light. "As the Enterprise's counselor, I don't have to tell you that," she quipped.

Riker shrugged nonchalantly. "That's alright. Probably has to do with the recent loss of his mother, if I had to guess."

Indignation was quick to replace Troi's smugness. "How did you-? You looked up his file, didn't you!"

"As the Enterprise's commander, I don't have to tell you that." An infuriating grin twisted his lips. He basked in her glare, which was as scalding as the flames that flickered in her dark, Betazoid eyes. Then Riker felt something faint but familiar in the back of his mind. It was like that moment when one catches a fleeting scent that reminds them of home, and no matter how far away they may be, it brings them back in an instant.

His smirk faded into a gentle smile. "Trying to read me, Deanna?"

All sentiments but surprise fled from her face. "You felt that?"

"Yeah. Felt just like the old days. Back when you taught me how to...listen for you."

Troi's eyes sank to the ground. "I didn't think you could sense me anymore," she said softly.

"I didn't, either," he admitted. "It's been so long. But I miss it. I….miss _you_." Slowly, he let his hand slide along the ground until his fingertips touched hers. He waited a moment to see if she would pull away. But to his surprise, she lifted her hand up and let their fingers interlace.

"Deanna. _Imzadi._ Look, I-"

A shrill scream ripped through the tenderness of the moment. It chilled their blood on the spot. They scrambled to their feet, heads whipping towards the harrowing sound.

Troi's voice wavered. "That came from-"

"Let's go." The commander drew his phaser and then set off with long, urgent strides. Troi followed closely behind him. Leaving the fire's safe glow, they crossed the vast front hall. Its lofty ceiling slanted down towards a passageway, which burrowed into the mountain like a tunnel. A few small chambers branched off of this passageway. Lantern light spilled across the threshold of the farthest one on the left. Bettencourt came into view, backing through it. His phaser pointed shakily at something still in the room.

"Bettencourt! What is it?" Riker shouted, bearing down on the frightened officer. As soon as he was within range, his eyes followed Bettencourt's phaser. It was aimed right at Carmen, who had been laid out against the far wall. A gray blanket covered most of the young woman's body, save for one arm that stretched perpendicular to her side. An IV had been lodged into the veins near the crook of her elbow and snaked its way up to a silver, medium-sized case that thrummed steadily as it replenished her blood.

"What do you think you're doing?" Riker cried, holstering his phaser and prying Bettencourt's weapon out of his sweaty palm. "She's still unconscious!"

"It-it was right there!" the officer stammered. "Standing over her! I swear!"

"What was?" Troi asked, pushing past both men and hurrying over to Carmen's side.

Bettencourt shook his head, huffing with short, panicked breaths. "I...I don't know. Some kind of creature. It had a deformed head...and black eyes...only eyes."

"The Nokk Qoten." A new voice joined the officers. Bettencourt leapt into the air, a second, shorter scream ripping from his lungs. Riker threw him a scowl, then turned to find Sheppard blinking up at them. His chestnut brown hair curled every which way, windblown and nappy. "That's what we saw too, sir."

"Well where did it go?" Riker demanded.

"They can go in and out of the walls," Sheppard explained. "But...I didn't realize they could leave the caves." He shuddered at this new revelation. "Then again...the way they came out of those ruins...when the shadow people had us cornered…maybe they can go anywhere."

"What are we going to do, sir?" Bettencourt implored the commander. "Should we move camp? And where's Worf?"

"Worf is making sure the rest of this mountainside is safe. So we're going to stay put at the moment. And we're going to keep our wits about us, or someone's liable to get hurt." He shifted his attention to the young man. "Now these creatures-these Nokk Qoten, as you called them-did they ever try to harm one of you?"

"Actually...no," Sheppard answered, stumbling across the realization for himself. "But Carmen said once that she thought they were preying on her fears. She kept having these really bad nightmares, even before she was poisoned."

"I'll stay with her," Troi offered, drawing their attention to herself. She knelt beside Carmen as she gently stroked her arm. Occasionally she brought up her other hand to fix the blanket or brush some hair from her face. "In case the nightmares or those creatures come back."

Riker sighed, reluctantly conceding. "Very well. But I won't be far away if you need me. Come on, Sheppard. You're supposed to be resting. As soon Carmen's able, we're going back."

Sheppard's eyes lit up with a hint of relief. "Back to the Enterprise, sir?"

"No. Back to the Chamber of Hearts."


	35. Dangerous Animals

**A/N: Wow, thanks so much for the reviews on the last chapter! You guys keep me going, seriously. Sorry that I've only been publishing like one chapter a week. Recently I've come down with the plague, apparently, so I've been feeling as delirious as Carmen (only with no rambling in Klingon, that I know of haha). I'm going to try to get back on track with a chapter every other day or so. And WIWJ-I'll write more Riker-Troi scenes, too :-).**

 **PS: This feels like a pretty apt chapter for Father's Day!**

* * *

After the Nokk Qoten sighting, Sheppard found rest to be anything but restful. He drifted between nightmares, tossing and turning in one of the small interior chambers of the ancient mountain villa. He could feel disembodied arms pulling him into the walls. He could see big, black eyes watching him in the dark. And from the open threshold of his room, a shadow figure watched him in bated silence.

Sheppard bolted upright, ripping himself away from the clutches of sleep. He glanced about the room, panting to catch his breath. There were no arms. No eyes. No shadow figures. He was alone in the dark and dusty chamber. Forcing his breathing to slow, he sank back down onto his side.

But just as his eyelids began to droop, a surprised cry rang out from across the villa. It curdled the blood in Sheppard's veins. He stumbled out of the room, searching for any sign of danger. Red light bled through the gaping window holes of the front hall, momentarily dazing him. But he pressed on, crossing the hall's vast and empty length until he came to a corridor that stretched into the mountain. Shouts came from its far end, along with a clatter that sounded like objects being thrown.

"Where are they?" Carmen's voice, desperate and strained, rose to the rocky ceiling.

"Would you listen to me? _We're_ your crew!" Riker bellowed back. As Sheppard approached the opening, he spied Counselor Troi nursing her elbow beside Carmen's empty bed. Riker stood a few paces away, his hands spread out in front of him in a placating manner. "Now just let him go, okay?"

Sheppard inched cautiously around the doorway. Carmen had backed into the far corner, moving like a threatened and dangerous animal. She held Bettencourt against her, keeping him hostage with his own phaser. His medkit lay open and in disarray at their feet. Her eyes darted between the commander and Worf, who was slowly encroaching on her with his own phaser drawn and trained.

" _Nadevvo peghos!_ " she snarled.

"We will not go away," Worf replied. "Now let him go. That is an order."

Carmen kicked the medkit his way and then retorted something in his native tongue. Worf stared back at her, aghast. His lips pressed together until they had drained of all color.

"What?" Troi asked, looking up at the commander. "What did she say?"

"I uh...I didn't quite catch the whole thing," Riker said. "But I believe it pertained to Worf's mother." Then he caught sight of the young man standing just inside of the doorway. "Sheppard! Get out of here!"

"But-I don't understand. Hasn't she had the antidote?"

"She woke up before Bettencourt could administer the final dose," Troi explained.

"Carmen, you need to listen to me-" Riker tried. But Sheppard stopped him.

"It won't work, sir. She's confused."

"I know that, ensign! Now I ordered you to get out of here-"

"You have to talk about baseball," Sheppard insisted. "It's her tether."

"Her _what?_ "

Carmen roared with impatience. "I'm only going to ask you one more time! What have you done with my crew?" She dug the phaser into Bettencourt's neck until he whimpered.

Riker huffed in frustration. "Carmen, we-"

"They're at Wrigley Field!" Sheppard shouted. All eyes turned to him. He fidgeted beneath the weight of each scathing stare. "Wrigley Field. Remember? You were just there." Slowly, he moved into the room. "It was the...the fourth inning. Charlie was pitching for the Cubs. Charlie Root. Remember Charlie Root?"

The phaser twitched in Carmen's hand. Bettencourt winced.

"And Ben Chapman!" Sheppard continued. "He-he was stuck on third, waiting for someone to bring him home. Then Earle Combs...you know Earle...he was...he was uh…"

"Up to bat." The words tumbled out of Carmen's lips, surprising everyone in the room-herself included. Her eyes widened in bewilderment.

"Yes! Yes, that's right," Sheppard encouraged, taking a few more steps into the room. "And you and me...we were waiting for someone to bring us home, too. Remember?"

"We...we were?" She blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the fog. Her arms began to uncurl from around Bettencourt. Worf lowered his phaser, and the movement drew Carmen's attention away. " _Worf?_ " She paused before Bettencourt could break free. But stealthily, one of his hands slid into the front pocket of his coat and closed around a hypospray.

"Yes, I am here," Worf answered. She gaped back at him in disbelief. Then, after a moment of stunned silence, she burst into laughter. The sound jarred everyone in the room with its deranged, almost scornful tone.

"Carmen?" Worf inquired.

"No, you are not the lieutenant! Worf is on Forcas III right now, for a tournament. Who are you? What have you done with my crew?" Bettencourt strained against her once again tightening grip. He was almost out of time. Thinking fast, he grabbed her phaser-wielding arm with one hand and then spun around, ramming the hypospray into the side of her neck with his other. Carmen's left fist flew just as fast, striking him across the mouth and splitting his lip open. But that was all the time she had. Her knees crumpled to the ground under the hypospray's heavy tranquilizer.

Bettencourt stumbled away from her unconscious body, nursing his freshly busted lip. A massive hand clamped down on his shoulder to steady him. "I did not think you capable of such quick thinking, Bettencourt," Worf rumbled. "Excellent job."

"Thanks?" The medical officer looked up, bemusement etched into the lines of his forehead.

Sheppard's gaze wandered over to the counselor, who sent him a grateful smile. "That was quick thinking on your part, too," she praised. "Who were all those people you were talking about? Ben Chapman? Earle Combs?"

"Oh, just a bunch of Yankees from a long time ago. It helped Carmen sleep, to talk about baseball." Riker glanced at him sideways. Though Sheppard avoided looking directly at him, he could feel the commander's eyes narrowing. "Anyways, what uh, what happened to your elbow?"

"I fell on it, but I'll be fine," Troi assured. "You should go back and try to get some more rest. The next time Carmen wakes up, she should be feeling more like her old self."

Sheppard nodded. He watched as Worf carried Carmen over to the makeshift bed. He couldn't help but wonder how much Carmen would remember when she woke up. And what she had seen down in that chamber. She had often muttered strange and frightening things in her sleep. Things that were hopefully only figments of her nightmares, fiction and not fact. "I hope you're right," he mumbled. It would be nice to see the old Carmen again.

* * *

Sheppard laid on his back with a sigh, letting his eyes meander across the rough-hewn ceiling of his sleeping quarters. Firelight from the front hall fell across the open threshold, dancing on the dusty floor like ghostly flames. A shudder ran through the young man to remember his nightmares. The disembodied arms. The big, black eyes. The shadow figure looming over him.

But someone _was_ looming over him. They leaned against the doorway, arms folded and legs crossed. Sheppard could only make out their silhouette against the red glow of the distant fire. "Commander!" he exclaimed, only partially relieved.

Riker gave no indication that he'd heard him. Finally, after drawing in a long breath, he uttered one single word: "Wharton."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Wharton. Was that the name you heard? The name you said Carmen had mentioned before?"

Something jogged in Sheppard's memory. "Yes! Yes, sir. That was it!"

"Are you absolutely positive of this?"

"I am, sir."

One of Riker's hands reached up to stroke his beard in a pensive fashion. "And how many of these, these shadow people were there?"

"Um, three. Well, four. But the fourth one never left the shuttle; I think he was injured. And there might have been another...Call...Callahan, I believe. From the sounds of it, he didn't make it."

"So the size of an away team."

Sheppard rubbed at his eyes as they began to adjust to the dark. "Yes, sir. I suppose so."

"And this shuttle-you said it looked Romulan?"

"I'm _certain_ it was Romulan."

"But not the shadow people?"

"Well...no. Carmen didn't believe so, either."

"Carmen is very sick. Her judgment has clearly been compromised."

Sheppard winced. "That's true, sir. But they...they didn't sound Romulan. They didn't act Romulan, either."

After a pause that was long enough to make Sheppard start to squirm, Riker clicked his teeth and straightened both legs to the ground. "Hmph," he grunted. Then, without another word, he was gone.

Sheppard let out a breath as he slowly lowered himself back down to his mat. But just as his head touched the pillow, Riker darkened his doorway once more. "Oh and another thing," he said, clearing his throat in a way that made Sheppard's chest tighten with apprehension. "Did she ever tell you about Alaska?"

Sheppard returned to a sitting-up position, his shoulders rigid and squared. "Alaska, sir?"

"Yeah, Alaska. " The commander chuckled. It was a low and quiet sound, as if he had suddenly remembered a private joke. "They used to call it the Final Frontier, you know. Miles and miles of open country. Nothing but the laws of nature. That place...it's in my blood. It's in Carmen's blood, too. We got to spend a few days there before the Enterprise left Earth."

From his mat on the floor, Sheppard listened attentively. It was as though he were speaking to the young man as William Riker, not Commander Riker. A hint of hope crept into his thoughts. Maybe he was starting to warm up to him after all.

"Anyways, our first morning there, she saw this moose calf," Riker continued. "It was playing in the treeline just outside of Carmen and Deanna's window. She went rushing out for a closer look. Didn't even notice its mother grazing nearby. Now, it's not often I've seen Carmen afraid. And I mean actually _afraid_. But she scrambled up the nearest tree like she were running from the devil himself." Again, Riker chuckled. Yet somehow, this time it sounded menacing. "The thing is, Alaska breeds all kinds of creatures. And among the most dangerous, is the determination of something six and a half feet tall that thinks you're standing between it and its young."

The mood of the room seemed to take a sharp and sudden turn. Sheppard tried to swallow, but his mouth had dried up. "I-I see, sir," he stammered, staring up at the commander's shadow. It towered over him, almost as tall as the doorway itself. _Almost six and a half feet tall, I'd bet,_ Sheppard mused.

Riker nodded curtly. When he spoke again, the young officer could hear the hint of a sly smile in his voice. "At any rate, I'm just rambling now. Rest up, ensign. We'll talk again soon."


	36. A Witness

**A/N: Zara08-I love that you know Riker's height! Hahaha you are the best :-p**

 **Angel897-Thanks so much for always reviewing!**

 **Ronald40-Haha that was one of my favorite parts to write.**

 **Judygrasham-I think you are right! She'll get to see him soon :-)**

 **Thanks again to everyone reading!**

* * *

"If you don't mind, I think I'll get some fresh air now."

Bettencourt finished locking up his medkit and then rose with a yawn. Clasping his hands behind his head, he stretched the muscles of his back that had stiffened from hunching over his patient for so long. Working conditions in that relic of a mountain home were a far cry from the Enterprise's sickbay. And after the incident that left him hostage at the end of his own phaser, Bettencourt was beginning to regret volunteering for this mission.

"Sounds good," Troi replied, casting him a weary smile from the head of the makeshift bed. "Take your time; you deserve a break." She sat with her back against the wall and her legs extended, one foot crossed over the other. Her fingers absent-mindedly ran through Carmen's dark, unruly tresses as she wove them together into a loose braid. Troi had proven herself a helpful assistant when it came to Carmen's extensive injuries. And though Bettencourt could not shake the feeling that they were being watched, he took solace in having a job to do and a capable woman to keep him company.

"Would you like me to get Lieutenant Worf?" he offered.

"No, we'll be alright," Troi promised. "I sense nothing out of place."

With a nod, Bettencourt withdrew. His own footsteps resounded in his ears as he made his way down the long, stone corridor and out to the welcome sight of the roaring fire. Worf had returned from his patrol and sat meditative-like before the flames. Riker reclined nearby, his brow drawn down in pensive thought. But his expression turned hopeful when he caught sight of Bettencourt joining them.

"Is she awake?" the commander asked, coiling his legs beneath him as though to stand.

"No, sir. Not yet. I just needed some fresh air, that's all."

Riker settled back down. "And the antidote?"

"Should be in full effect by the time she comes to. Would you like me to check on Ensign Sheppard?"

Riker shook his head. "Deanna already-" Abruptly then, he paused. "Actually, yes. And do a full blood scan while you're at it."

Worf's eyes swivelled towards the commander. "You suspect he has been compromised as well?"

"Worf, do you remember the debriefing?" Riker stared into the fire, returning down the road that his thoughts had wandered. "Haykov said she was rambling about someone named Wharton."

Worf nodded. "I remember, sir."

"Sheppard said that's the name he heard. I don't know how Carmen came across it down here, but we can't trust her memory right now. Not with this poison's effects." He glanced to the side and met Bettencourt's eye. "I need to know if we can trust Sheppard."

* * *

Troi finished the braid in Carmen's hair and bound it together with a velvety, black band from around her wrist. Gently then, she tilted Carmen's head towards her and examined Bettencourt's work. The swelling over her eye had gone down. Most of the cuts and bruises had faded. And long, purple scars were all that remained from the gashes across her neck.

Troi's stomach growled. She realized that she hadn't eaten since leaving the Enterprise. Her mind drifted back to their last family dinner before Carmen's departure. Her mouth watered to remember the commander's pasta carbonara. She could almost smell it now. The sweet and creamy note of the cheese, the saltiness of the bacon, the floral scent of wine swirling at the bottom of her glass... _Wait._ They didn't have wine that night. So how come she could smell it?

Troi straightened. The room around her did not seem so dark all of a sudden. The warm glow of a torch cast a merry circle of light over the ground. _A torch? Where did that come from?_ Instinctively she reached for Carmen, but Carmen was no longer there. Instead, rows and rows of clay jugs lined the floor. Each one was filled to the brim with dark purple liquid that saturated the air with a fruity and fermented fragrance. As Troi's eye continued to rove the room, she discovered cubbies carved into the far wall. Blocks of what looked like white cheese had been piled into these cubbies. And from the ceiling hung strips of cured meat, marbled and glistening.

"Carmen?" Troi called out. A woman appeared as though summoned. She stood in the threshold of the pantry, balancing a basket on her hip. Jewels adorned her long auburn hair, which had been wrapped around her head like a crown. She wore a green form-fitting dress that clasped together behind the graceful curve of her neck. Tears rolled from her eyes and stained the orange skin of her cheeks. With a heavy sigh, she began to throw food into the basket.

"Mirees! Mirees, what are you doing?" Footsteps clattered down the corridor towards them. A man came into view, wearing a long, vibrant tunic that scintillated in the torch's light. Copper hair touched the top of his sturdily-built shoulders. He set his hand over the basket and stared at the woman reproachfully."There is no time for this, my love."

"The children will need something to eat," she insisted. "Who knows how long we will have to be down there."

"The Jotnara will take care of us. They always have."

"But this is our home!" A new flood of tears spilled forth. "This was my father's home, and his father's home-"

"It is not time to mourn yet." The man tore the basket from her hands and tossed it aside. "Now hurry! The children are waiting-" He pulled on her arm, but she refused to budge.

"How do we even know we will be safe there? What if these beings follow us into the Chamber of Hearts?"

"It is our best chance, Mirees. Please. While we still _have_ a chance."

Her gaze wandered across the walls, which seemed to mirror her sorrow. Troi could almost hear the woman's silent, hurried goodbye just before she turned away and followed her husband from the room.

"No-wait!" Troi called, hurrying after them. Red daylight filled the corridor's far end. Suddenly, something blotted out the light. A scream pierced the air, cutting through Troi like a knife. As she fumbled for her weapon, she slammed into someone with a shriek of surprise.

"Whoa, whoa! What is it? What's wrong?" Riker's voice soothed her frayed nerves. His long arms engulfed her with their safety.

"Wh-where are they?" Troi stammered. "Did you see them?"

"See who?"

"They must have run right by you!"

Riker glanced both ways down the hall. Red light filtered through it once more. "No one came this way except for you and Bettencourt. I would have seen them."

Worf appeared behind the commander. "Is everything alright, counselor?"

She fumbled for an explanation beneath the scrutiny of their gazes. "I don't...I don't understand. It was so real…"

Riker pursed his lips with concern. "The away team said Carmen saw things, too. Do you think it was like that?"

" _Carmen!_ " Troi broke away from him suddenly and raced back towards the room, her memory jolted. She scolded herself for leaving the young woman behind. Had it been a trap? Had something deliberately lured her away?

She slid to a stop in the threshold, followed a second later by Riker. And what they saw stole the breath right out of their lungs.

Carmen was sitting upright, the blanket gathered at her waist. Her back was to them and her face to the wall. But the wall was no longer just a wall. An unsettling shape had taken form just above Carmen. It looked like the top of a body, but a body with grossly exaggerated proportions and lumpy, gray skin. Two big black eyes stared down at the young woman from an otherwise blank face.

Troi heard Riker swear under his breath, then his hand flew to his phaser. Carmen broke free from her trance. She whipped around, crouching defensively. "Stop!" she cried. "He won't hurt you!"

But the wall heaved like the surface of water, swallowing the face and then smoothing out again to erase any ripples left behind. Within seconds, all evidence of the creature had evanesced and the wall was just a wall again.


	37. Not As It Seems

"No!" Carmen climbed to her feet and began pounding against the wall with her fists. "Come back! Come back and answer me, damnit!" she cried, the picture of futility as she struck at the unyielding stone again and again.

Then she felt Riker yanking her back. "Hey, hey!" he shouted. "Stop that!"

"Let me go! You don't understand!"

"You're not thinking clearly, Carmen! Look at me!" He spun her around and held her out at arm's length. "I said _look_ at me."

Begrudgingly, she stopped struggling and lifted her face to meet the commander's eyes. Something bitterly desperate burned behind her own. "Why did you scare him away? There's more going on here-"

"You were poisoned, okay? Your mind has been affected; things aren't as they seem. But trust me, everything's going to be alright-"

"No commander, it isn't!" She swatted his hands away and huffed out a snarl. "You have to listen to me. You have to-"

"It's _you_ who has to listen!" Riker's jawline tightened with vexation. "For once, Carmen, just try and listen, will you?"

She glanced down at herself, her defiance wilting in the wake of his tone. It was then that she realized someone had dressed her in a crisp, new uniform. Its Starfleet markings weighed heavily on her in that moment.

"You are a Starfleet officer! When are you going to start acting like one? I mean, what the hell were you thinking, going off alone like that? Leaving your team behind? Picard had faith in you. _I_ had faith in you. Faith that you could be part of a team. But maybe you weren't ready after all. Maybe you're still the same old Carmen, trying to do everything alone. Treating everything like a one-woman mission..."

She winced at his words, but took the blistering rebuke silently, dutifully. Tears began to shine from her downcast eyes. Troi hung back in the doorway as she watched. Presently she felt Worf's hand on her arm, a silent urge to give Carmen and the commander their privacy. Troi cast them one final, compassionate glance before retreating. As much as she felt for Carmen, she knew better than to intervene. Riker was speaking to her as the Enterprise's commander now.

But the counselor side of her knew that his anger stemmed from more than duty. It stemmed from the fear that tugged on something planted deep in his heart. The fear that threatened to uproot that which he had carefully cultivated with the young woman. The fear that came with being a father.

"...and what's more, you could've been killed!" he continued. "You could've gotten your _team_ killed! You can't just...you can't...damnit, Carmen. Come over here." His anger ebbed at last and he pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

She dissolved into tears at the touch. Wholeheartedly then, she returned the embrace. For she knew what Troi had known. And while his anger stung her with every word, it also comforted her in some strange way. "I'm sorry. Really, I am," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

He sighed and rested his chin atop her head. "I know, I know. Just...don't scare me like that again."

After a few more moments, Carmen managed a brief, tear-ridden laugh. "This doesn't mean more trombone lessons, does it?"

"You better believe it does!" A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, and the sound welcomed things back to normal. "Now come on, let's get you something to eat."

* * *

Carmen could hear the crackling of a fire before they even reached the end of the corridor. Its glow brightened the dull, red haze of daylight that drifted in sluggishly through the dust. A single figure accompanied the blaze, standing with their arms folded against the chill.

"Counselor!" Carmen cried gleefully.

Troi turned. A smile cast the shadows from her face. "Hey! How do you feel? Better?" She opened her arms, welcoming Carmen into them. They shared a brief but affectionate embrace.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Carmen insisted. "But...what about you?" As she pulled away, she could sense something uneasy behind the counselor's attempt at a cheerful countenance.

Troi's eyes flitted to Riker and back. He stepped closer, clearing his throat. "Did you see something again?"

"No, not again. I was just thinking…"

Carmen's eyes widened. "You saw something?"

Troi sighed, then drew the young woman closer to the fire and gestured for her to sit down. "Yes. Just before you woke up. I was sitting with you when...the room...it changed somehow."

Slowly, Carmen lowered herself in front of the flames. She could feel their warmth on her cheeks, but the warmth would go no further. "I thought they might try to reach you, too."

Troi knelt beside her. "They?"

"The Nokk Qoten. Well, that's what we've been calling them. They live here."

Riker came around Carmen's other side, exchanging glances with Troi. "Carmen, that thing that we saw with you-"

"He was one of them, yes. But he didn't mean any harm. He just came to...to finish a conversation."

Troi rested a hand on the young woman's knee. "You've been communicating with them?"

"Sort of. They're empathic, like us. But their powers are very weak on the surface. That's why they kept trying to lure me into the Chamber of Hearts."

"Yes-one of the beings I saw, they mentioned that place," Troi recalled. "But those were not the Nokk Qoten."

"You saw the Zinorians." Something sad and somber clouded Carmen's face. "I have seen them, too. The walls...they are haunted by memories of them."

"They're just walls," Riker insisted, glancing about as if expecting a rebuttal.

"No. It would seem like that, but there is something in the stone-" Carmen froze mid-sentence, for over the flames of the fire she saw a hulking shadow fill the crumbling doorframe. "Commander!" she cried, leaping to her feet in alarm.

"It's alright!" he said, grasping her sleeve lest she launch herself at the intruder. "It's just Worf."

"Worf?" Carmen blinked in confusion. But sure enough, as the figure stepped inside, the fire illuminated a set of familiar Klingon features. "Worf!"

He carried a large bin in his arms and appeared to be searching for a place to set it down. Troi climbed to her feet to assist him with the task. "He was just fetching lunch from the shuttle," she explained over her shoulder.

"But...the tournament…"

Worf nodded gratefully as Troi took the bin, then turned his shoulders to face the confounded young woman. "There were more important matters at hand." A hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth.

She beamed in return, fidgeting her hands behind her back to contain her delight upon seeing the Klingon. Her gaze lingered expectantly on the doorway. But when no one else emerged behind Worf, her face fell. "Wait...where's…" She turned to Riker, suddenly distraught. "What happened when you found me? Was I alone?"

"You mean you don't remember?" Riker frowned.

"Allan is fine," Troi interjected, reading her distress. She set the bin down and then inclined her head towards a row of small rooms at the far end of the hall. "Bettencourt is checking him out now, just to be sure."

Carmen set off across the hall. "Hey, wait!" Riker called after her. "Where are you going? What about lunch?"

"Sheppard needs to eat, too. I'll be right back," she said, and continued on her way.

* * *

As Carmen approached, she saw light from a lantern spilling through one of the doorways. She paused just inside of this one, her chest sinking with relief to lay eyes on the uninjured young man. He sat patiently beside an officer in a blue medical coat who stared at a screen in his hands. Sheppard's head instinctively drew towards the new presence in the room.

"Carmen!" he exclaimed, flashing her a warm smile that radiated with the same sense of relief.

Bettencourt glanced quickly between the two. "I think I have what I need. I'll just go fill in the commander." He rose and bid them both goodbye with a curt nod, giving Carmen a wide berth on his way out. She watched him leave, puzzled by his skittishness.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"His name is Bettencourt. He works with Kerry, actually," Sheppard replied, rising to his feet. "You uh...you sort of scared him the last time you woke up."

"Scared him?"

Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "It's just...I think it was his first time being a hostage."

"Hostage?! I took him hostage?!" Carmen blanched, mortified at the thought.

"It's okay," Sheppard promised. "You didn't hurt anybody. Well, not seriously anyways."

Carmen hung her head as he approached. "Sheppard...I'm so sorry. What I must have put you through-"

"Hey, I said it's alright." She felt his hands on the outside of her arms. "A warrior doesn't let a friend face danger alone, remember?"

"Even if the friend _is_ the danger?" she quipped, looking up at him with an apologetic grin.

He burst out laughing. "Yeah, even then." Her grin turned sincere. One of his hands moved up her arm to cup the side of her cheek. "It's good to see you again, Carmen. I mean, the old you."

She half closed her eyes, basking in the sincerity that exuded from the young man. His presence had a way of seeping into her empathic senses. There was something wholesome, something invincibly honest, that soothed her battle-worn cynicism.

But the Nokk Qoten's warning flashed through her mind. She cleared her throat and straightened, pulling away from his tender touch. "They uh...they have lunch waiting. We should join them."

His smile crumbled, yet still a shell of it remained, like the ruins of that once-beautiful mountain villa. "Yeah...yeah, you must be starving," he said, stepping back to let her lead the way. As she left the room ahead of him, he found himself worrying that perhaps the old Carmen wasn't back after all. And it had to do with whatever she discovered in the Chamber of Hearts, he knew. Would it change them all, too? What exactly was waiting for them amidst the dust and shadows of this place?


	38. Formulations

The two junior officers made their way back to the rest of the group, who were busy assembling their lunch plates. Sheppard's eye was immediately drawn to the dish before Worf. Red, gelatinous clumps huddled together beneath a dark sauce. A pungent odor wafted from its slick, oily surface.

"What is that?" he asked, nudging Carmen.

"Oh, we must be having sandwiches!" She licked her lips hungrily at the horrendous sight.

"Sandwiches?" Sheppard failed to make the connection. "But...what's that stuff for?"

Worf threw him an offended look. Carmen, too, was staring at him as if he had just insulted her honor. "For the peanut butter, of course," she said. "Don't you like peanut butter and jelly?"

"That's...just jelly?"

Nearby, Troi burst out laughing. "It's jelly made from targ hearts. I wouldn't eat it unless you fancy a belly ache for the rest of the day. Here, have some ham and cheese instead."

Carmen dismissed her with a wave. "Heart of Targ is good for you! And some even say that consuming it on a mission will bestow you with supernatural courage. Isn't that right, Worf?"

"Indeed." He gazed down at the young woman with a hint of pride, then offered her the foul-smelling bowl. She accepted it gladly.

Riker clicked his tongue. He sat on the ground with a knee drawn up and a plate of food balancing on his lap. "What nonsense have you been teaching her, Worf? I'd stick with Starfleet basics, if I were you."

"But I am not you. I am Klingon."

Troi snickered. Riker opened his mouth to make a retort, but none came to mind. "That's...a good point," he finally conceded. Light laughter drifted up from the others.

Once everyone had finished prepping their plates, they took their respective places around the fire. Worf stationed himself closest to the open doorway, paying no heed to the little puffs of dust that blew at his back. He was flanked by Riker and Bettencourt. Carmen and Sheppard settled down on the other side of the fire, under Riker's wary eye. Troi joined them, giving Carmen's shoulder an affectionate squeeze as she sat down next to the young woman. Silence ensued as each got to work quelling their hunger.

After a time, Carmen wiped the corner of her mouth with a sleeve and looked to Riker. "What are we doing here? I mean, why aren't we eating on the Enterprise?"

Sheppard paused mid-bite, eager to hear the answer and hoping that the commander would be more straightforward this time. Riker set his plate on the ground before speaking. "Picard is interested in the people who tried to take you."

"In Wharton, you mean."

"Wharton?" Bettencourt echoed. "Who is Wharton?"

Riker slung an arm over his drawn up knee. "Wharton is commander of the U.S.S. Artemyev."

Carmen coughed on the bite of food she had just swallowed. She pounded a fist against her chest to clear her airway. "The...what? What are you talking about?"

"Haykov told us about the day you were taken. He said you mentioned Wharton in your ramblings. So I looked him up. He's not posted anywhere near this sector of space."

"But it was him! I recognized him! I mean...he never took off his mask. But he was commander of my Enterprise for years. I _know_ Wharton. It was him, I tell you."

"Carmen, you've been very sick. You didn't even recognize me when you first woke up."

"Sir," Sheppard politely chimed in. "When the shadow people had us cornered, one of them called the other by name. _That_ name. I heard it myself, and I'm not sick."

Riker squared his jaw. "Bettencourt, your scan was...comprehensive?"

"Yes, sir. No traces of anything foreign in Sheppard's blood."

Carmen narrowed her eyes. "You don't trust him?"

"He...well, he spent a great deal of time alone with you."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm just saying maybe your delusions got to him somehow. He's been under a lot of duress while you two were stranded down here." Carmen threw him a glare, but it merely bounced off of the commander's stony exterior.

"Wait-this Wharton guy, he serves with Starfleet?" Bettencourt asked. "Then-say it is him-why would he want to attack an away team?"

"Because he never shied away from doing someone else's dirty work." The corner of Carmen's mouth twitched into a brief snarl. "He was an ignorant man. A violent man."

"We're not speaking about him," Riker reminded her sternly. "This is a different Wharton. Not the man who killed your captain."

Sheppard's eyes widened. "He was a traitor in your universe?"

"No," Carmen glumly replied. "I was the traitor."

Sheppard's head buzzed with questions, but Riker wasn't finished asking all of his yet. "You said you saw a Romulan shuttle. What would humans be doing with a Romulan shuttle?"

"I don't know, sir," he admitted. "But they were not Romulan. They were from Starfleet. One of the others, he had an accent. An Earth accent."

"That doesn't mean they were from Starfleet," Riker pointed out.

"No, sir, but...the combadge!" A piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. "I saw a combadge, sir! On the body we found. I could show you!"

The commander reclined back, processing Sheppard's offer. "Actually...you could do better than that. If you've seen their shuttle, then you've seen their camp, right?"

Sheppard nodded, following his train of thought. "Yes, sir. It's in the city, on the northern end. It's where they were keeping Carmen."

A cold grin crept across Worf's face. He pushed his plate aside and cleared his throat. "I would like to pay them a visit, sir."

Riker grinned back. "What do you say, Carmen? Up for a little detour?" Yet when he turned to look at her, she did not appear as heartened as he had expected.

"None of this matters," she muttered. "We're just wasting time."

"Wasting time?"

"They are coming, commander." Her statement sent a shiver across Sheppard's skin. He remembered the voices in his head repeating those very words as they fled from the Chamber of Hearts.

Riker's brow drew down in concern. But as he studied the despair tucked into her eyes, an image flashed through his mind. It wavered in and out of focus. Still, Riker could tell that it looked like the doors to sickbay. He shook his head, casting the image out. "Carmen? What's wrong?"

"It's not the poison," she said. "Though I know you have trouble believing that. We have to go to the Chamber of Hearts. You have to see for yourself."

Again, an image flashed through Riker's mind. This time, he saw the inside of sickbay. A man's body lay stretched across a cot. His hand hung over the edge.

"See what?" Troi asked the young woman softly.

"What happened to the Zinorians. It's what they tried to show you, counselor. It's what they've been trying to show me."

"You know what happened to the Zinorians?" Worf leaned forward, his dark eyes ablaze with intrigue.

"The same thing that happened to my people." She met Riker's gaze. The image sharpened. It was him. It was him lying on that cot, eyes turned lifelessly upward and a bloody, gaping hole in his chest. He flinched as a wail pierced his thoughts-the wail of a little girl crying out for her father.

"It's them, commander," Carmen said. "The Borg. They took the Zinorians. They're here, in your universe. Just as I feared."


	39. Fire and Water

**A/N: So I originally posted this chapter, then realized I had forgotten a part of it, so I deleted it. Here it is again, whole this time and ready for you! Sorry about that! And thanks so much for the reviews! Ahhh you guys are the best, had me so excited with the ones from the last chapter!**

* * *

 _Carmen sat alone at the bar. It looked just like every other bar that accompanied those miserable little trading posts. Drinking was usually the only form of entertainment out in the boondocks of space. So after helping her Klingon crew replenish supplies, she had found her way there. And there she remained._

 _Her gaze wandered around the hazy room to see if any members of her crew were present. To her surprise, another face was looking back at her. It was a human face. Male. Young, just like her. Jet black hair hung over his forehead while form-fitting clothes hinted at his trim physique. As their eyes locked, he flashed her a grin and started moving through the crowd towards her. Carmen turned away, hunching over her drink with a surly grumble._

 _It wasn't long before she heard his voice. "What's that, Acamarian brandy? How about another one? On the house."_

 _She eyed him warily with a side glance. "On the house? I thought this was a Ferengi joint. You don't look Ferengi to me."_

 _"Says the girl in a Klingon uniform." He eyed her in return, but with a much different sentiment. "Come on, what do you say?"_

 _Carmen looked down at her mostly empty mug. She didn't like the idea of company, but she didn't like the idea of being alone, either. Vullek's rejection, fresh in her mind, stung her like poison. She could still feel the scorch of his lips, the burn of his touch, the passionate ache that helped her forget all else. Now she looked to the brandy to help her forget. For she did not want to remember that fire, nor the warmth that she was denied._

 _She shoved the mug away._ " _Sure. Why not."_

" _Hey, Argak! Get me an Acamarian brandy, would you?" the young man shouted to a short and beady-eyed Ferengi behind the counter._

" _Fine. But this is coming out of your pay, Farrow."_

 _Moments later, a new glass of golden liquid was placed before her. She drank deeply, waiting for the merciful numbness to wrap around her mind. "What are you doing here, anyways?" she asked after an inadvertent belch. "Where is your ship?"_

" _I don't have a ship," he replied. "Well, not anymore. Let's just say...it didn't work out. I had better plans in mind."_

 _Carmen's brow furrowed. "I...I don't understand." It had never occurred to her before, to make plans other than the ones already made for her._

" _I ditched the draft. Plain and simple."_

 _She shook her head. "But it can't be."_

" _What?"_

" _Plain and simple."_

" _It is, sweetheart." He chuckled long and low. "So you're one of them, eh? The kind that the council just eats up. Let me guess, you have an impressive record. You never question orders. You would die for your beloved Federation-"_

 _She slammed his face into the bar, wrenching one of his arms behind his back. "Do not call me sweetheart," she warned. "And yes, I will die. But not for the Federation."_

" _Then why do you keep fighting? Because of duty and honor and all that crap?" The corner of his mouth twitched as she yanked on his arm, but other than that, he maintained his composure._

" _You know nothing of duty and honor! You hide from the war, living on this sorry rock with verengen ha'dibah!" She jerked her head towards the Ferengi bartender._

" _Don't be jealous." Farrow winked at her, warranting himself another violent meeting between his face and the counter. "Come on, admit it," he goaded. "You're fighting a losing war out there. The Federation left us to die. And for what? You think they give a damn about us? About our plans? Might as well be a Borg drone, dead inside but persisting out of some compulsion to exist." Carmen's grip loosened as his words swam through the brandy in her head. Suddenly he whipped around, yanking himself free from her grasp. She reached for his collar, but he wound his arm beneath hers, breaking her grip, and spun her down onto the counter. "I aced my training too, darling," he whispered into her ear._

 _Carmen pushed off the counter with a roar and together they flew into a table. As they clattered to the floor, splintering the table beneath them, a brief tussle for control ensued. But the brandy dulled her abilities and soon Farrow was on top, pushing his hips down over hers and pinning her arms above her head. "Tell me," he taunted. "What are you fighting for? What makes you different from the Borg?"_

 _She thrashed violently beneath him. "You could never understand!"_

" _Try me."_

 _With a vicious cry, she bucked him off and then swung her leg over, straddling him in return. One fist snatched at his shirt while the other coiled for a blow. He grinned back at her smugly, giving her pause. "For all your talk," she panted. "What is it that YOU live for?"_

 _Farrow's smile widened. "The moment."_

 _He pulled her down onto his lips. She resisted at first, but it wasn't long before her well-honed instincts fell by the wayside and new ones took over, ones that were more intoxicating than the brandy. Next thing Carmen knew she was kissing him back and ripping his shirt open. His own hands wandered beneath her uniform, greedily seeking. He was just using her of course. She knew that. But no more than she was using him..._

 _Morning came. She laid awake in his bed, her head throbbing and her heart empty. The fire's ravaging touch had felt amazing at first, burning through her grief, through her loneliness. But then it continued to burn, consuming everything in its path until there was nothing left but the ashes of regret._

" _Morning, sunshine!"_

 _Carmen turned her head to find Farrow stretching luxuriously beside her. She scowled and climbed out of bed, throwing on her uniform as quickly as she could._

" _Hey, what's the rush?" he frowned. "In a hurry to go off and fight the good fight?"_

" _Yes," she snapped, the single word sharp as a knife._

" _Why? You never did tell me."_

 _She finished clasping her belt around her waist and then sank onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. For a few moments, she remained thus silently. "I have a home, you know," she said at last, her voice as subdued as her demeanor. "Somewhere out there. A ship called the Enterprise."_

" _You sure about that?"_

 _She threw him another scowl over her shoulder. "Yes. All this time, Picard has kept his people safe. My father, he was his right-hand man. He raised me on those decks. I just...I want to go home. That's all."_

 _Farrow grunted. "Yeah, well, sorry baby. There's no such thing as home. No such thing as safe. Not for people like us."_

 _She grabbed a boot and shoved her foot inside. "You don't know Picard. He made me a promise-"_

" _Listen. Darling..." He rose out of bed, making no effort to retrieve his clothes as he moved towards the end where she sat. "Don't kid yourself. You're much too smart for that. Anyways, why don't you stick around? I'm sure Argak could use an extra hand. The pay is crap, but you only fight the fights you want." Carmen put her other boot on, ignoring him. "Hey-" He grabbed hold of her chin and tilted her face upward. "I like you. I mean it. You go back out there...you're never gonna win. Nobody wins. Not against the Borg."_

 _She yanked herself free. "Haven't you heard the rumors? They say the Romulans are close to finding a way-"_

 _"The Romulans?" He laughed contemptuously. "Since when have they told the truth? Anyways, just stay here with me. Forget about it all. Don't you want to? Forget it all, I mean?"_

 _She stood, glaring at him nose to nose. "There IS no forgetting. Don't you see? Maybe I was just destined for war. No matter where I go, no matter what I do-I'm convinced this pain will find me." Pushing past him, she made towards the door._

" _Then why bother going back to your precious Enterprise?" he called after her._

 _Carmen paused in the threshold. "Because that's where my father died. And if it was good enough for him, then it's good enough for me."_

* * *

At long last, the storm relented. A poignant silence descended upon the rubble left behind. High above, where the wind still reigned, galloping clouds cast ghostly shadows across the land. Carmen leaned her forehead against the shuttle window, watching those shadows roam the forsaken city. A despondent sigh left a small patch of fog on the glass near her lips. Suddenly she felt a hand clasping her own. Her eyes darted to the young man beside her.

Sheppard smiled gently. Then he turned away, looking out the opposite window. Still his hand remained on her lap, his fingers intertwined with hers. It was such a small and comforting gesture, yet Carmen felt a surge of emotions at the touch. It brought to mind their last night with the away team, before she was taken. His visit to her tent. The softness of his lips against hers. The rekindling of something extinguished long ago. Her memory dimmed after that night, but still she could remember waking time and again to his reassuring touch. And whereas it had felt like fire before, with Sheppard it was more like an ocean. She wanted to lose herself beneath his waves, to swim in his depths until she forgot how to breathe.

Carmen became suddenly aware of another presence in her mind. A familiar presence. One that usually soothed her, but in this moment turned her cheeks a bright shade of scarlet.

 _Did you see all of that?_

 _Yes, I could not help it,_ came Troi's answer. It brimmed with a sense of amusement.

 _Well never mind. It was a mistake._

 _A mistake?_ Concern quickly replaced the counselor's amusement.

 _I can't do this. Not right now._

 _Why not?_

Carmen blew out a short, sharp sigh and grumbled something under her breath. Sheppard sent her a quizzical look. "Sorry," she whispered. "I was talking to somebody else." She slid her hand out of his, using it to smooth her wind-blown braid. He nodded, still confused but accustomed to it. Slowly, he retracted his hand back over to his own lap.

 _Because I cannot cross that line. Not with the Borg out there,_ Carmen continued.

 _If there is a line, then it is only the one you have drawn. Not the Borg._

 _You don't understand. This isn't about me. I need to be level-headed. In control._

 _You're wrong. I do understand._ Troi's head turned towards the commander. Carmen's gaze softened. This commander was not the one who raised her, but lately she felt as though she had more in common with him than the other.

The shuttle pulled to a stop, interrupting their conversation. Under Riker's smooth and skillful hand, they dropped down to the surface. Flurries of sand blew up from beneath the thrusters, pelting the shuttle's sides. "We'll walk from here," Riker called out. "Don't want them to know we're coming. Ensign Sheppard, you still remember how to get to their camp?"

Sheppard looked out the front of the shuttle, gaining his bearings. "Yes, sir. We need to go deeper into the city, heading north."

"Good. Then let's move out."


	40. Firsts

**A/N-Mrshaloona-Aww that is so great! Thanks so much! It's great you are enjoying everything so far, I really hope to keep you intrigued.**

 **Angel897, Zara08, Ronald40, WIWJ-You guys are the best! Thanks for the continued support! I hope this chapter delivers as well :-)**

* * *

The team trudged north along a system of old, forgotten roads that wound through the crumbling city. A brief detour brought them to the cellar where Carmen and Sheppard had taken refuge. The young man explained how he'd discovered the cellar, using it as shelter from the storm in between scouting trips. It hadn't been difficult to find the shadow people's camp, for they had believed themselves alone on the surface, thereby growing lackadaisical in their efforts to remain hidden.

Carmen was delighted to have her bat'leth back in her hands. She immediately set about fashioning a sling with her jacket, a trick she had learned once while serving with her former crew. In the meantime, she listened as Sheppard recounted all that had happened as they were awaiting rescue (minus the kiss, of course). Much of it was as new to her ears as it was to the others. She remembered only fragments of their time within these walls, and nothing of the final ambush. Her blood boiled to hear of Sheppard's mistreatment at the hands of their attackers. An urgency to get to their camp surged through her veins.

"So those...those Nokk Qoten creatures...they saved you?" Worf asked, eying the nearest wall.

"I'm not sure if that was their intention, but it's what enabled our escape," Sheppard replied.

"It _was_ their intention. I'm sure of it." Carmen adjusted the bat'leth across her back to a more comfortable position. "They have seen enough violence on this planet."

At reminder of the Borg, a grim silence crept in and settled over the team like a mist. Troi fought against a shudder as she saw flashes of Carmen's own memories of violence. She could feel the young woman's despair taking hold, and cast the commander a silent, imploring look.

Riker nodded, catching her drift. "Come on then," he urged the team. "We're not done yet."

* * *

They continued on towards the northernmost edge of the city. Worf and Sheppard led the way. The others stretched out in single file behind them. All around, the afternoon fell hauntingly quiet, with a chill in the air that seemed to reach its frigid fingers right through their uniforms.

Riker found himself deep in thought as he followed Worf's back in silence. His protectiveness swelled to think of the two young officers being ambushed. But a renewed sense of determination allayed his anger, for one thing was sure-whoever the shadow people were, he'd make them answer to their crimes against Starfleet. And against Carmen.

Then he noticed the young woman falling into step at his side. She kept silent, too, with her brow pulled tightly down. He smiled gently. Carmen often sought out his company when she needed the comfort of light and easy conversation, or none at all. No doubt her heart weighed even more heavily than his at the moment.

Riker cleared his throat, signalling his intention to speak. "You're not going to sulk the rest of the trip, are you?"

"I'm not sulking," she grumbled, throwing him a scowl.

"Right. Because you're-"

"A Starfleet officer? I know. You already gave me that lecture."

"A _Riker._ You're a Riker. And I'll be damned if anyone with the Riker name throws in the towel so easily."

"I'm not sulking and I'm not throwing in the towel."

"Good." Riker tugged at his uniform and carried on. "Now what will it be-steak or ribs?"

"What?" Her scowl turned into an expression of confusion.

"When we get back to the Enterprise," he elaborated. "See, I figured you'd want a home-cooked meal before we start all those trombone lessons. So what would you prefer? Steak or ribs?"

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, despite her attempts to keep dour. "Can I choose a third option?"

"If you say krada legs, I swear I'm going to-"

"No, no," she laughed. "I was going to say sloppy joes. Do you know how to make them?"

Riker scoffed noisily. "You know who you're talking to, right? Sloppy joes are a piece of cake!"

"No-" She shook her head. "They're a kind of sandwich, with meat and-"

"It's an expression, Carmen."

"Oh. Right." She turned her face forward to hide her reddening cheeks from view. After a few steps in sheepish silence, she added, "Hey, can the counselor join us again?"

Riker's smile faltered. "Deanna? Yeah, uh...I'm sure that will be fine." He turned away as well, struck with a sudden pang of guilt. Their unfinished business tugged at his mind, threatening his resolve. Then he felt something else tugging at his mind.

His head whipped to the side to find Carmen studying him intently. She tried hurriedly to look away, but not before he caught her in his gaze. "What's the matter? Don't believe me?" he quipped.

"I just thought I sensed...well...are you anxious about something?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," he said firmly, skirting an answer. "But I see you're getting a handle on those abilities."

"It's this place," she explained. "There's something special in the stone. Some kind of crystal. It magnifies empathic abilities, they said."

"They?"

"The Nokk Qoten."

Riker nodded slowly. A new revelation was dawning on him. The way he sensed Troi's presence in his mind earlier. The way he sensed Carmen now. And that vision that he saw, of himself lying lifeless on a cot…

"Hey, Carmen?" he said, softly interrupting the natural lull in their conversation. "When you were telling us about what happened to the Zinorians...you were thinking of him, weren't you? Your father?"

She stared straight ahead, still trudging through the sand. But Riker noticed the side of her jaw clench tightly. "How did you know that?"

"I think I saw him. Back when we were on Earth, you told me...you said that you went to sickbay looking for him. That it was a close-range shot."

Her chest rose with a sharp intake of breath. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Must be the crystal. You said it enhances empathic abilities."

"Yes, but _you're_ not an empath," she insisted, somewhat defensively.

"No, not exactly. A long time ago though, back when I was stationed on Betazed, Deanna...she taught me things. I used to be able to hear her thoughts. When we lost touch, I lost those abilities. I thought they were gone forever. I didn't even try to-to-" He trailed off, searching for the right word.

She hung her head. "No, it wasn't you. It was my fault. The counselor says that I project sometimes, when the memories are too strong. I didn't mean for you to see...him."

As she finished speaking, she bit down on her bottom lip as though to keep it from quivering. Riker's gaze softened. While he had known about her father, for the first time Carmen's loss had suddenly become something tangible, something real. The memory of her cries pierced his thoughts anew. It had been of sound of two lives being destroyed. And now she stood to lose everything all over again. Her sulking seemed suddenly more forgivable.

"Hey, so you and the counselor-you must have been pretty close." Carmen shifted the bat'leth's weight in an attempt the shift the conversation as well. "My father used a word once when he was talking about my mother's homeworld...something like...im..imza…"

"Imzadi." Riker smiled fondly.

Carmen's eyes lit up with recognition. "Yes! That's it! What does it mean?"

An ache grew in his heart to remember the first time he heard that word, echoing across the expanse his mind. The first time he heard her or held her so intimately. "It uh...it means the first."

"The first?" A small, surprised smile curled her lips. "I didn't know she was your first."

He glanced back at Troi for help, but the counselor was too far back, with Bettencourt plodding along between them. "The first to touch your soul, that is. That's how she put it once."

"Oh, I see," she said. Her head tilted to the side. To Riker's chagrin, it looked like she had more questions. "And yet...even though you chose duty first...you've managed to stay friends after all these years. Wasn't that hard?"

"Sure, sometimes. Especially when that slimy little negotiator came aboard...still don't know what Deanna saw in him." A smirk flitted briefly across his face. "But the bond is still there. And it will always be there."

"But it _is_ possible. To stay friends after a connection like that, I mean."

It occurred to him then, that she seemed to be trying to reassure herself of something. It also occurred to him that she was staring at Sheppard's back. As he followed her gaze, he noticed that the young man had come to a stop. Worf halted as well, intently reading the screen of his tricorder.

Riker motioned for Carmen to fall silent, then trotted ahead to the Klingon's side. "What is it, Worf?" he asked once he was close enough.

"There it is, sir," Worf said, indicating a tower-like structure up ahead. It was built halfway into the encroaching cliffside, windowless and with a flight of worn stone steps leading up to an arched doorway.

"Any lifeforms present?"

"No, sir." Worf shook his head. "Unless the stone is somehow causing our scanner to malfunction, like it did on the shuttlecraft."

"We thought our tricorder was malfunctioning, too, when we went down into the caves," Sheppard said. "But I believe it was actually reading the presence of those beings, the Nokk Qoten."

"Then perhaps we are truly alone," Worf offered.

"And I was hoping for a nice little visit." Riker frowned, genuinely disappointed. "Well, let's have a look anyways, shall we?"

The team crept forward, keeping along the walls of the surrounding ruins. Worf continued to scan for any sign of life. Without the wind, however, the desert about them seemed especially forlorn. Even the storm had abandoned this place. No sound fell upon their ears. No movement caught their eyes. Dust and shadows were all that remained.

Worf ascended the stairs first. A phaser now took the place of the tricorder in his hand. Riker watched their backs as they waited to hear from the Klingon in uneasy silence. At long last he appeared, standing beneath the darkened doorway. "All clear, sir."

"No company then?"

"There is nothing." Worf's eyes narrowed. "No occupants, no belongings...no evidence of a camp at all, sir."

Riker turned expectantly to the young man. "Are you sure this is the right location, ensign?"

"Yes, sir," Sheppard insisted. "I'm positive. This is where they were. This is where I found Carmen."

"Carmen?" The commander turned his attention to her next. "Does this look right to you?"

Her eyes wandered up the side of the tower. "I...I can't remember. Maybe if I had a look at the inside..." She started up the stairs, followed by Troi and a curious Bettencourt. Sheppard tried to join, but Riker called him back.

"You're with me," he growled. "Now where was this shuttle you supposedly saw?"

* * *

"I don't understand, sir. It was right here." Sheppard stared at the ground in bitter dismay. He stood in a semi-circle of empty dirt, where the cliff walls had created a small alcove. Small, but big enough for a shuttlecraft.

"Then where are they?" Riker demanded, growing weary of their lack of answers. It was more of a rhetorical question, a frustration vented out loud. But the junior officer winced, taking his commander's exasperation personally.

"Maybe they moved. Maybe...maybe they left."

Riker paused in his pacing. Slowly, he swivelled towards Sheppard. "What did you say?"

Sheppard squirmed. "Just that...maybe they left already?"

"Yeah...suppose they did." Squatting down, Riker gathered a fistful of sand and held it pensively in his palm.

"Sir?"

"An ion trail. If their shuttle was here, then the sand would contain an ion trail." He let the sand slip through his fingers and then rose to his feet, giving his combadge a tap. "Riker to Worf. I need you down here."

 _"Right away, sir."_

A scraping sound somewhere behind Sheppard made both men turn. "Worf? How did you get here so-" Riker's question died in his throat. For it was not Worf that emerged from the shadows. "Sheppard, walk back towards me slowly," he ordered, his voice steady but straining with urgency. "And don't make any sudden movements."


	41. Hunger

**A/N: Sorry that I left you on that cliffhanger for so long! So this week has been grueling as I've been preparing for a tournament. There won't be any bat'leth wielding Klingons at this one, unfortunately lol. I do Brazilian jiu-jitsu, and fractured my ribs in training just before the last tournament, so I had to back out of that one. This next one is only eight days away and I'm so nervous/excited! Next week we'll be tapering off the training to rest up for my fight, so I'll have more time for writing. Thanks for your patience! And here's your next chapter :-)**

* * *

 **Zara08-Omg your comment made me laugh so hard! I love Lwaxanna, and I'm actually planning on making her a part of the next episode :-p**

 **Angel897-Yay! I love it! A little more suspense for you with this chapter, too!**

 **Mrshaloona-Aww, awesome! Love to hear it! Thanks so much :-)**

 **Bnewall1-Hehe more Riker-Troi moments coming right up!**

* * *

Carmen sifted through the poison-hazed memories of her time in captivity. Everything came in patches. She caught glimpses of a windowless room with smooth walls and a lofty ceiling, much like the one she was standing in now.

"Is this the place?" Troi asked, drawing alongside the young woman. Carmen felt the counselor's hand run across her back, coming to rest on the outside of her arm in a comforting manner.

"Yes. They kept me tied up over there, I believe."

"Cowards," Worf grumbled.

Carmen's lips curled into a smug smile. "Don't worry; I'm sure one of them will never walk right again because of me."

Worf nodded, heartened by the fact. But Bettencourt swallowed nervously. "So uh...where do you suppose they went? Think they're still on the planet?"

"It depends on what they were after," Troi remarked, a hint of concern lacing her voice. She gave Carmen's arm a squeeze. _And what they wanted with you._

Carmen's smile faded. _Don't worry about me, counselor. Please._

 _You know I can't help it._ _That's what family does, after all._

Carmen stiffened. The hand on her arm felt less reassuring and more like a weight all of a sudden. Just then, Riker's voice came to their ears via Worf's combadge. _"Riker to Worf. I need you down here."_

"Right away, sir," Worf answered. He took a brisk step towards the doorway, then paused. Carmen pulled away from the the counselor, grateful for the interruption of duty and awaiting her orders. But a sense of sudden alarm cut through her like a knife.

"What is it?" she asked, her chest tightening with apprehension.

"There appears to be multiple lifeforms approaching," Worf said, staring at the screen of his tricorder. "They are closing in on Commander Riker and Ensign Sheppard."

* * *

"Sheppard, walk back towards me slowly. And don't make any sudden movements." Riker's hand moved towards the phaser at his waist as Sheppard made his cautious retreat.

A horse-like beast staggered out of the shadows. It threw its head back with a whinny that sounded more like a scream. Yellowed froth gathered at the corners of its mouth. Ribbons of flesh hung from the hindquarters, leaving a bloody trail in its wake. As its eyes rolled towards Sheppard, it pawed at the ground with a hoof, kicking up clouds of dust.

"Keep going," Riker ordered the young man. "I'll stun him if he charges."

Sheppard could tell by the sound of Riker's voice that he was close by. For once, it was a reassuring notion. Especially as his own phaser was probably still lying in the sand where the shadow people had shot him. His eyes flicked to the trail of blood. "That thing, sir...I think it was attacked by the same dogs that attacked us. That means-"

"It means we need to get out of this alcove. Now stay behind me." Riker clamped a hand on his shoulder and then pulled him back, interposing himself between Sheppard and the rabid animal. It stood in the opening of the alcove, their only escape, snorting frantically all the while.

Suddenly the desert silence was cleft by a cacophony of yips and howls. The horse-like creature reared up with a shrill whinny, its front hooves lashing at the air. It was its final cry. Streaks of red-brown swarmed through the opening, fangs flashing in a bloodthirsty fervor. Sheppard's stomach lurched at the sound of tearing flesh and snapping sinew. He turned away lest he gag at the gruesome sight.

"Over there! Come on!" Riker shouted, grabbing his shoulder once more and dragging him along. Sheppard stumbled to keep up, fearing that the plan was to simply plow their way through the carnage. Then he saw what the commander had seen. A crack split the cliff wall up ahead, forming a dark and narrow crevice. Riker shoved the young man in first, then turned to his side and tried to wedge himself through the crack. His shoulders scraped against the edge of the opening, ripping right through his uniform. He ground his teeth together and redoubled his efforts. From inside the crevice, Sheppard wrapped his hands around the commander's wrist and pulled with all his might. Both grunted and groaned, straining with the dire effort.

Snarls filled the air as squabbles rose up amongst the dogs. One kill would not satiate the entire pack, which was substantially larger than the one Sheppard had encountered before. He felt a desperation rising in his chest. "Maybe if you used your phaser, blasted away some of this rock-"

"No," Riker interrupted. He yanked his arm back out of the crevice. "Worf is on his way. I'll have to hold them off from out here."

"But-sir!"

"Stay as quiet as you can, do you understand me?"

Sheppard gulped. "Yes, sir," he reluctantly answered. Riker turned, blotting out most of the light that filtered through the opening. He stood stolid and unflinching as a wall, waiting almost eagerly for their enemies to notice.

It didn't take long. Sheppard heard the commander's phaser fire followed by a yowl. The phaser fired again. And again. The frenzy of snarling grew closer. Sheppard's pulse raced as Riker struggled to keep up with the onslaught. Then a voice, reaching above the din, flooded the young man with relief. " _Commander!_ "

Inching forward, he spied a small figure leaping over the carcass on the other side of the alcove. Carmen landed amidst a throng of ravenous jaws. Her raven-dark braid whipped to and fro as she swung her bat'leth through the air. Its metallic edge winked in the sunlight. Every movement carried deadly timing and precision, but with a buoyancy that almost made it appear as though she were dancing. Sheppard's lips parted, mesmerized by the sight.

" _Carmen?_ " Riker did not sound as impressed. One of the dogs launched towards him just as he fired at another. He turned to the side and slammed his boot into its throat, propelling it back towards the ground. "What do you think you're doing? Where's Worf?" he shouted, dispatching the dog before it could spring towards him anew.

"Where's Sheppard?" she countered.

"He doesn't have a phaser! And neither do you!"

Carmen drove her bat'leth from her right shoulder to her left knee with a vicious cry, striking down another one of the creatures. "I don't _need_ a phaser!"

Riker huffed. "Weren't you listening when I told you that this isn't a one-woman show?"

There was a yelp as Carmen rammed the sharp tip of her bat'leth into the closest assailant. "Well it isn't a one-man show, either!" She ripped her bat'leth free again and a lifeless pile of fur landed at her feet.

Sheppard tried his best to hold back a smirk, even though the commander couldn't see him. Somehow, they both managed to be arrogant and selfless at the same time.

"Fine," Riker conceded. "Then can we-" Suddenly Riker was yanked out of Sheppard's view, yelling in anguish when razor-sharp teeth sank into his arm.

"COMMANDER!" Carmen cried. She froze up, watching in horror as Riker was dragged to the ground and immediately buried beneath a bloodthirsty avalanche. His phaser skittered across the sand upon impact. Her instincts clamored for her to move, to reach him. But something stronger gripped her chest, squeezing her heart as though threatening its very ability to beat. Fear. It was the same fear she had felt when she saw her father lying on that cot.

Then one of the creatures slammed against her knees. She sailed to the ground with such force that the breath fled from her lungs. Immediately it set upon her, clawing at the arm she held up to block her throat. _Commander, can you hear me?_ she tried. _Will. I never called you Will. That's what everybody called my dad. I don't know what to call you, but you're more than my commander. Don't leave me, too. You hear me?_

No reply.

* * *

Sheppard, too, found himself frozen in fear at the sight of Riker falling beneath a tangle of teeth and claws. The commander's legs lashed out, landing several powerful kicks that Sheppard felt thump in his chest. Though he fought back with vicious determination, Sheppard knew he would not last very long. Then the young man spotted the phaser. It lay on its side, handle tilting upwards, not too far from the hungry mob. Drawing in a quick breath to steel his nerves, he then darted from the protection of the crevice.

It took mere seconds to cover the distance, but to Sheppard, each step felt like a year. And so after what seemed like ages, the phaser was within reach. He dug his heels into the sand to scoop up the weapon. One of the dogs turned, sensing a new threat. Sheppard leveled the phaser best he could and fired.

The other three creatures looked up from the commander at the cry of their fallen comrade. Their ears flattened against their skulls and wiry red-brown fur bristled along each of their spines. Sheppard leveled the phaser again. But after only one shot, all three dogs fell to the ground. Sheppard paused, utterly baffled.

Then he heard shouts coming from the other side of the alcove. Troi and Bettencourt were racing towards him, phasers in hand. Worf stood over Carmen, who lay curled on her side in a defensive ball. Muscles rippled formidably beneath his uniform as he wielded the bat'leth aloft at the creatures brazen enough to remain. Never before had Sheppard seen the Klingon move with such elegance, like a river that flows with purpose and power.

"He's lost a lot of blood." Troi's voice made Sheppard's head turn. The counselor dropped to her knees at Riker's side, tenderly cupping his face in her hands. To Sheppard's relief, the commander's eyes were open. He stared up at Troi with a faint, weary grin. His uniform hung by threads over one bloody shoulder, and tattered shreds were all that remained of one sleeve.

"Come on now, it's just a scratch," he said, dismissing her worry even as he enjoyed it.

"Shush," she scolded, but a smile of her own glowed from the corner of her mouth. One of her hands wandered up to brush back a lock of sweaty hair.

Bettencourt's medical scanner trilled alongside the commander's wounds. "And he'll continue to lose more blood, based on what we've already seen. We have to get him back to sickbay to administer the antidote."

"No, we aren't leaving yet," Riker insisted, rolling to one elbow in an attempt to sit up. "Where's Carmen?"

Sheppard's attention shifted back towards the other side of the alcove. Worf was helping the young woman to her feet as she nursed one of her arms against her chest. He sprinted over, catching her eye as he approached. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"The commander, he-"

"He's going to be fine," Sheppard promised. "What about you?"

Her gaze drifted behind him, to where Troi was still fretting over Riker. The concern that wrought her face slowly dissipated. "Me? Oh, I'm fine." She glanced up at Worf. "You would have won first place, you know."

"Pardon?" The Klingon's brow furrowed.

"If you had made it to the tournament." She nodded towards the bat'leth in his hand. He clapped his other hand over her shoulder appreciatively.

"No matter. This was far more enjoyable than winning some trophy."


	42. Burned

"I can walk, Worf. Really." Riker sounded less than enthusiastic about the Klingon's assistance as they hiked back to the tower.

"Time is of the essence, remember?" Troi reminded the commander, enjoying the view of him slung over Worf's back like some sort of damsel in distress. "Especially now that you've been bitten."

"Come on, it'll take hours before I feel the poison's effects. Tell her, Sheppard."

"Me? Uh-"

Troi clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Don't put him in the middle of this. Hasn't he been through enough?"

Riker scoffed. " _I_ seem to remember being the one attacked."

"And I seem to remember him stepping in to save you," Troi countered.

"He didn't save me."

" _William_." The commander's arrogance wilted in the wake of her tone.

"Alright, alright. What you did out there, Ensign Sheppard..." He propped himself up by digging an elbow into Worf's back. "It was very...commendable. Brave, even."

A genuine smile lit up Sheppard's face. It extended to Carmen's face as well, who had been trudging alongside him in silence. She caught his eye with a brief but supportive glance.

"And as for _you_ ," Riker continued, turning his attention to the young woman. She pursed her lips, bracing herself for the reprimand. But his eyes hinted at something warmer. "Good job out there," he said. "I mean it."

* * *

The group carried on, making their way over sand and stone until the cliffside tower came back into view. Worf carried the commander inside and laid him out on the smooth, hard floor. Bettencourt fetched his medkit and immediately got to work, with Troi once again providing assistance and company.

As Worf descended the staircase, Sheppard and Carmen moved to the side to let him through. They waited at the base of the steps with weary, dust-covered faces. "Stay here," he ordered the two junior officers. "I will return shortly."

"But-lieutenant!" Carmen cried, dashing after him as he set out alone. "Isn't there anything we can do? Some way we can help-"

"The commander has requested that I go back and search for ion trails." He paused, looking down at her with a stern but fond gaze. "Stay here and keep watch. I am entrusting you with their safety."

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, begrudgingly conceding her orders. _He means wait_. _I hate waiting._ Carmen returned to the stone staircase and heaved herself down on the bottom step beside Sheppard.

"Looks like they got you, too," the young man said, staring worriedly at the jagged claw marks that scored her arm.

"Hm? Oh...yeah." Carmen silently cursed herself. For it wasn't the creatures that got her. It was her own fear. She had made a mistake out there; a mistake that nearly cost them much more than a few scratches.

"You should have Bettencourt look at that once he's done with the commander."

"No," she declined. "We need to get moving. I'll just save it for Dr. Crusher. I'm due for a lecture from her, anyways." She mustered a smile.

Sheppard laughed, shaking his head as he stretched out his legs. "Well what you did with that bat'leth...I've never seen anything like it. Did Worf teach you that?"

"No. I've been fighting with a bat'leth since I was thirteen years old."

"Didn't you have phasers?"

"Phasers are ineffective against the Borg."

"Oh." Something in the silence grew heavy. Sheppard shifted his position, fidgeting beneath its weight. "Hey, um, I've been meaning to ask you...what you said before, about being a traitor in your universe…"

Carmen grimaced. She knew the question had been coming. "I killed him," she replied. "Wharton. After helping him stage a mutiny against Captain Picard. I betrayed them both."

Sheppard said nothing, still reeling from her words. So she continued, telling him about the council and the way they had ordered the mutiny. About the way they had come for her and the other children of the Enterprise. About the way they had turned her against her father's ideals before turning her out to war.

She told him about that fateful day in her fighter, when she watched the Enterprise blow apart. And then, finally, she told him about waking up to find herself back at the beginning, in a place where Picard was still captain and children were still allowed to be children. Only here, no one-not even her parents-knew her name.

"Does it ever bother you?" Sheppard asked after taking a few moments to soak it all in. "That Commander Riker and Counselor Troi aren't...that they aren't…"

A small smile lighted on Carmen's lips as she caught his drift. "Not really. I have no memory of my parents being together. And the commander...he is happier than my father was. His imzadi lives, even if they are not together."

"Imzadi?"

"On Betazed, it means the first one to touch your soul," she explained.

Sheppard nodded. "I see." Then he reached for her hand as it rested over her knee. There was something gracious in his touch, something reassuring. For even after hearing of the darkness that shaped her, his tenderness remained.

Carmen's heart sank. For she knew what else was coming. "Sheppard, I need to tell you something…"

"Yeah?"

"It...it's Kerry. She still has feelings for you."

"Kerry?" Sheppard's eyes widened. "What-"

"That's how I knew to ask you all those questions on the shuttle, back when we first came here."

He shook his head. "I don't care how she feels; we're just friends. But you and I...we're more than that." He tried to search her eyes, but she kept her face forward and her gaze on the ground. "...aren't we?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Sheppard," she said softly, almost in a whisper. "We _can't_ be more."

"What?" His jaw worked for words that would not come.

"Vullek was right," she continued. "He tried to warn me once. He tried to tell me why we couldn't cross that line. I hated him for it, just like you'll probably hate me."

"I don't hate you, Carmen. I could never hate you." He squeezed her hand in earnest.

Her chest heaved. Of course he couldn't. His spirit, so gentle and naive, was incapable of harboring such a dark sentiment. "Maybe even Farrow was right, damn him. Maybe the only way to live is in the moment. But I can't do it. I can't burn you the way he burned me."

"Farrow? What are you talking about?"

"You deserve better than this, Sheppard. You deserve someone like Kerry."

"I want _you_. I don't understand what's changed-"

"Nothing has changed! That's the problem, don't you see?" Carmen pulled her hand free and rose, facing away from him with her arms folded across her chest. "I thought this place was different. I thought this place was safe."

"Please-don't do this," he begged, climbing to his feet. "Don't give up hope. This place _is_ different. You're-"

"I'm sorry, Sheppard. But I can't do this." She squeezed her eyes shut. She could practically feel his heart breaking in her own chest.

After a few moments of aggrieved silence, Sheppard drew in a breath ragged with tears. "So that's it then? This is your choice?"

At last she turned to face him. "Yes, this it it," she said, swallowing hard. "But I promise you this: always, I will be your friend. Always, I will be here to make sure that you do not face danger alone."

"No." He shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. I've tried it before." Sheppard sank back down onto the step to suffer quietly. Carmen bit her lip against a tide of pain that threatened to rise up around her and drag her out to sea. For his grief bled into her empathic senses, seeping into a part of her very soul. The part of her soul that had been touched.


	43. Home

**Two chapters in less than 24 hours for you :-). And only a few left for this "episode!" Thanks so much to everyone who is still reading. And thank you for the reviews, they always make my day to hear what you thought of the chapter!**

* * *

"How much longer, Bettencourt?" Riker asked, a touch of impatience underscoring his voice. He sat a few paces inside the doorway, palms on the ground and legs outstretched.

"I'm just about done, sir," Bettencourt replied. "I can't stop the bleeding on these wounds here, so we'll probably have to changes the bandages out again in a few hours."

"Hopefully we'll be on our way to the Enterprise by then. I just need to see this Chamber of Hearts. See what these beings know about the Borg. Go check if Worf is finished with those ion scans, will you?"

"Yes, sir." Bettencourt gathered his instruments together with the help of Troi. After reassembling his medkit, he rose and nodded a farewell. "Make sure to take it easy on the stairs, commander. You might be a little dizzy from the blood loss."

"Don't worry," Troi quipped after Bettencourt disappeared from view. "I'll just get Worf to carry you down like before."

"My knight in shining armor," Riker grumbled.

"And I thought Allan was your knight in shining armor."

The commander groaned. "Come on, I said he was brave and commendable and all that. Now can we please forget that he _might_ have helped me out of a pinch?"

"Oh, Will." She slapped a hand across his chest. "I think you'd really like him, you know. If you gave him a chance. Carmen likes him."

"She told you this?" His face drew suddenly serious.

"She didn't have to tell me," Troi replied. "And what are you so worried about? That he'll be like you?"

"Ouch. I'm already wounded, you know." Riker clutched at his chest, pretending to be in pain.

"Besides," Troi carried on, heedless. "We know Carmen is the one like you. So _I'm_ the one in pain here."

Riker laughed heartily. "Yes, yes. I can't believe you put up with us. Well me, mostly." He lifted one hand and fixed an errant curl that twisted away from the rest of her hair. "You don't have to, you know. Put up with me."

As he set his hand back down, she traced her fingers over the top of it. "There are worse things, I suppose." A playful smile fluttered across her lips.

"Yeah, like that negotiator. What was his name-Devinoni?"

"Hey!" She slapped him across the chest again. "Don't make me bring up Rebecca, who still works tactical. Or Etana, the Ktarian dissident. Or that blond from Angel One-"

"Alright, alright," he laughed. "So we've both made some bad calls." He gripped her hand in his. "But somehow, we always end up here."

She looked down at their hands, her smile sobering. _Imzadi_. The word danced across her thoughts at his touch. Softly then, her smile returned. "We do, don't we?"

He smiled back, leaning towards her until their smiles melded into a gentle kiss. But as he tried to start a second kiss, she pulled away.

"Will, you know I want this, but...what you said…before..."

Riker straightened, letting the distance between them resume. "Not just what I've said. What I've done." He breathed out heavily. "Look, I've pushed you away. I've told myself it was better that way. That it was easier to just be friends because...because then I wouldn't have to admit that I need this. That I need _you_."

His eyes dropped to the floor. Troi touched his face, sensing the bitter struggle within. "I need you, Deanna. I've been so afraid to admit that. Afraid of needing something as badly as I need this. I thought being alone meant being in control. But you have control over me either way. So please...say you'll stay. Say you'll put up with me. And I promise-I'll stay, too. No more running. I want this to be all I ever look for, and all I ever find. I-"

Troi fell into him, letting her lips crash against his like a wave upon the sand. She planted one hand on the floor behind him and ran her other hand down the side of his face. She could feel the coarseness of his beard against her soft cheek. She could feel him cupping the back of her head, his fingers weaving through her sandblown tresses. She could hear the divine sound of their lips parting and then meeting again and again. _Imzadi_...they both heard it now, bounding across the space between their minds, connecting them. Riker moaned and kissed her again. And like the shore to the tide, Troi gave way to his kiss, to his lips, to his tongue.

Slowly, he let his back sink to the floor, pulling her down with him. But without warning, she broke away. Riker opened his eyes and looked up at her quizzically. "Deanna? What is it?" He followed her gaze, twisting around until the doorway came into view. Carmen stood in the threshold, struggling to fully grasp the implications of the scene before her.

"Carmen!" Troi finally articulated. She climbed to her feet in sheepish haste. "There's uh...there's something we need to talk about."

"I think I can surmise it on my own," came her curt reply. It was then Riker noticed that her eyes were reddened as though she had been crying.

"What's going on?" he asked, hurrying to his feet as well. "Is everyone alright?"

"I thought you said you and the counselor-I thought it was possible to stay friends," she blurted out, her voice straining bitterly.

Troi winced. "We should have told you sooner, I know. We-"

"What do you mean _sooner?_ " Carmen recoiled a step. "How much sooner?"

Now Riker winced. "Since...well, since San Francisco."

Carmen took another step back, shaking her head. "All this time…? You...you asked me to be open...to be honest...all while you…?"

"It's my fault," he insisted. "I wasn't ready to acknowledge this."

"Acknowledge what?"

" _This._ That I had become part of a family. I know it's what you're afraid of, too."

"I'm not afraid. I'm-this isn't-just forget it, okay?" She turned hurriedly, withdrawing from the doorway.

"Carmen, wait!" Riker jogged after her. "Don't run again!"

"I'm not running," she snapped, her foot hovering over the top stair.

"You're always running." Riker scoffed. "How many times have I had to chase you? To find you?"

"I said forget it! I don't care, okay? It's not like you owe me an explanation. It's not my place to-"

"It _is_ your place. Don't you get it?" Riker's voice softened, though still his exasperation remained. "Right here-right now-with us. This is your place. Understand?" Sand crunched beneath his boots as he stepped cautiously closer. "And don't tell me you don't care, because I heard what you said out there."

She froze. Slowly, her head turned to the side. "You did?"

"Yes. And you can call me Will if you want. Or commander. It doesn't matter to me. But this...this is called a family. And that _is_ what matters to me." He stepped even closer, standing right behind her now. "See, we're a lot alike, you and I. We don't want to give up control of our hearts, our heads. But if you really didn't care, you wouldn't be so damn brash all the time. You wouldn't always be first to answer the call of danger."

She spun around angrily. "And what if the Borg-what if it's all the same? That means you'll leave me again-both of you! I can't-I can't keep losing-"

"Stop it, Carmen!" Riker gripped her shoulders to keep her from unraveling any further. "We're still here. We haven't lost yet. We haven't even begun to _fight_ yet. What did I say about being a Riker?"

Her bottom lip trembled, trying desperately to hold herself together. "That we don't throw in the towel."

"That's right. And yes, having someone to love means having something to lose. But it also means having something to fight for."

Troi drew alongside Riker. She ran a hand up his back, basking in his words. _He's right, Carmen. Don't run from this chance. You can be more than a warrior now._

 _But I don't know how to be anything else._

 _You were a daughter once. And you can be a daughter again, if you'd like. If you'd take that chance._

With that, Carmen fell the rest of the way apart. Casting off her broken pieces, she crashed into the counselor with an embrace so fervent that they both stumbled back a step. Riker steadied Troi with a hand on her back, laughing gently, and then joined the huddle.

Carmen closed her eyes, buried beneath the safety of their combined embrace. And in the deepest recesses of her pain, beneath the wreckage of her past, something sacred was restored. For though the Enterprise still drifted somewhere above them, Carmen had come home.


	44. Wounded Souls

**A/N: Okay I am back from the tournament! Had to leave the state for a few days, and have been taking some time to recover. Unfortunately, I lost both of my matches. And I had my arm in a sling for awhile because at the end of my second fight, my opponent caught me with a kimura. I was pretty down about losing, but the next tournament is in November, so I'll be back! For now, I get to focus on writing again. Anyways, thanks for your patience, and your support! Your reviews have really helped to cheer me up. So at last, here is your next chapter! Only two (possibly three) more, and I'll have them out soon!**

 **WIWJ-I knew you'd love that last chapter :-)**

 **Jleto-Aww, thanks so much! I'm glad it was worth the wait! And thank YOU for such a kind review!**

 **Angel897-Glad you liked it :-)**

 **Ronald40-And there's more coming!**

 **-Yes! :-) I will definitely be continuing this story line. Already been writing some rough drafts for the next installment. I hope you like where it goes!**

 **Zara08-Actually that would've been hilarious to have him pass out at such a tender moment hahahaha. :-p And I rather enjoyed writing that scene with Worf carrying Riker lol. Glad you liked the chapters!**

 **Bnewall1-Yay! I am SO glad you loved it! Can't wait to write more family scenes now that they have indeed come to their senses :-)**

 **Notary Sojac-Awww thank you so much! Seriously, such a relief to see the reception on this chapter. I was so afraid it would just fall flat. Thanks for the review :-)**

 **Causier-Oh my gosh, thank you so much! Your words really made my day. It's support like yours that keeps me going! I'm so happy that you are enjoying my stories. And I promise to keep writing!**

* * *

As Carmen followed Riker and Troi down the steps, she saw Worf at the bottom discussing something with the others. Each face appeared disquieted by the subject. It immediately anchored Carmen's heart back to reality. Still, she could not shake the newfound sense of hope filling her chest like a breath of fresh air.

Riker straightened his shoulders, looking like a commander once more. "Report," he ordered the Klingon. "Did you find anything?"

"Yes, sir." The Klingon nodded. "There were indeed traces left behind. Romulan traces."

Riker's eyes darted to Sheppard. "Then there was a shuttle. And a camp."

"Just no Romulans," Bettencourt pointed out.

"Perhaps not…" Riker's gaze remained on the young man, who's spirits seemed strangely dampened despite having just been vindicated. "But there _was_ a body. Still remember where it was?"

"I do, sir."

"Good. Then lead the way."

* * *

But after scouring the area, the team still came up empty-handed and hungry for answers. There was no body, just as there had been no camp, no shadow people, and no shuttle. "Maybe an animal dragged it off," Bettencourt offered.

"Callahan…" Carmen mumbled, squatting down for a closer look at the empty sand. "I'll bet the body was Callahan's."

"Who?" Troi asked.

"I overheard them mention someone in their party who didn't make it. I think they had been ambushed by those dog creatures, too."

"And did you hear any other names?"

"Talbot. He seemed to be in charge. And there was also Wharton. I never heard his name, but it was him. I know it was him."

Riker crouched down beside her, elbows hanging over his knees. "Carmen...I know you think you saw and heard those things. But this poison...it affected your mind. And that's going to affect your credibility. You understand that, don't you?"

"I understand," she replied, still firmly resolute.

"To report that Wharton was out here-that he conspired in these sort of acts-that's accusing someone of treason without any evidence." Riker heaved out a sigh. "Captain Picard doesn't like to act on conjecture alone. We'll need more."

"What about me, sir?" Sheppard asked. "I heard Wharton's name, remember? I also saw a combadge on the body. A Starfleet combadge. And I was never poisoned."

"There is that," Riker conceded. "I'm just not sure how far your credibility will stretch, with your prolonged exposure to the elements."

Carmen tried to flash the young man a grateful smile, but her smile crumbled when he turned away, pretending not to notice.

"Well whoever was here, I'll bet they're long gone now," Bettencourt mused aloud. "They had a Romulan shuttle. They could've flown right by the Enterprise and with their cloaking abilities, our scanners wouldn't have detected a thing."

"But why? I mean, what were they even doing on a planet like this?" Riker rose to his feet, agitated with his inability to act. He began to pace, letting his eye follow the silhouette of the mountain range against the dusty desert air. They were deep into the afternoon now, on the cusp of evening. Three moons bathed in a mahogany sky, ready to begin their nightly vigil. Riker would have admired it more if his mind weren't busy grasping for answers.

Worf stood nearby, cleaning the blade of his bat'leth with a slow, methodical hand. He paused suddenly and lifted his head. "Do you suppose the Nokk Qoten would know anything about that?"

Riker paused in his pacing. A flicker of hope sparked in his mind. His gaze darted from the mountains to the young woman. "Carmen? What do you think?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I think it's worth a visit."

* * *

Once again, Sheppard found himself descending into the dark mountain cave. A row of stalactites hung menacingly overheard, hovering like the blade of a guillotine. He shivered at a sudden draft, for he could imagine one of those stone creatures blowing down the back of his neck.

"Watch out," Riker warned. "There's a steep drop-off up ahead." His flashlight revealed a curve in the path, where the cave wall fell away and an immensely empty space stretched out beside the trail.

"That's it," Carmen said. "That's the top of the chamber." She took the lead, drawing herself close to the edge. A frigid wind pulled at the loose hairs around her ears. She tucked them back into her braid and glanced at the others. "They are waiting for us."

Her words sent a chilling ripple throughout the team. Bettencourt gulped, shifting the bag on his back. "And you're sure that they're...friendly?"

"They won't hurt us," she answered, already heading towards the stairs. The medical officer looked only mildly relieved.

"It's alright," Sheppard whispered, trying to assure himself as much as Bettencourt. He fell in line last as the team began to descend into the chamber. "We have two empaths with us. They won't lead us into danger."

Bettencourt nodded, sliding one hand along the cool, dusty wall to steady himself. Though they were venturing further into the mountain, the darkness around them brightened to a dim haze. Sheppard could see the black lake below them now. Shafts of evening light cut holes in the rocky ceiling far above, giving the cavern a sense of vastness and depth. Step after cautious step, the team made their way in silence. At long last, and with a sigh of relief, Sheppard felt solid ground beneath his feet again.

Worf and Riker fanned out, staring up at the walls warily. "Well?" the Klingon asked. "Where are they?"

Troi grabbed onto Riker suddenly. "They are here. This place…" Her chest heaved, fighting for breath. Her eyes looked right through him. "It is...it is…"

"Deanna?" Riker turned toward her, gripping her arms and worriedly searching her face.

Carmen doubled over with the same mysterious affliction. Her breathing turned ragged, sounding almost like whimpers of pain. Worf instinctively reached for his phaser. "What is happening to them?"

"No!" Carmen held up a hand to stay his phaser. "Don't...shoot…"

"Are they doing something to you?" Riker cast an accusatory glance at the walls.

"They don't mean to," Troi assured him. "It is this place. It is heavy with sorrow."

"The children," Carmen said, tears springing to her eyes. "They brought their women and children here, thinking they would be safe. They were the last to be taken."

The ground began to shake, eliciting cries of surprise. Riker grabbed Troi around the waist and pulled her protectively close. To his horror, the wall before him began to writhe. "What in the name of…" He backed away slowly, bringing Troi with him.

Faces formed within the rock, followed by towering, grossly disproportionate bodies. Bettencourt made a sound as if he were going to faint. Carmen trembled violently, trying to fight off a flood of empathic sensations. She could still feel the desperation of Zinor's final inhabitants washing over her. Just as her knees buckled someone came to her side, holding her up. "Thank-you, Sheppard," she whispered. He nodded, eyes still fixed on the wall that appeared to be coming to life.

One of the bodies pulled away from the wall with a wet squelching sound. The rock behind it closed again as though made of viscous mud. Riker loosened his arm from around Troi's waist and stepped in front of her. "Who are you?" he demanded, staring intrepidly up at the being.

 _We are the Jotnara_ , it answered. Though no mouth appeared on its misshapen head, somehow they all heard its reply. _Why are you still here? They are coming…_

"We know," Riker said. "You warned one of our own about the Borg, didn't you?"

 _She is not one of yours. She is different._

Sheppard felt Carmen wince at his side. "Yes, she is different," the commander called. "But she is still one of ours. Now how do you know they are coming?"

 _We see things as they were, as they are, as they will be._ _We tried to warn our beloveds once. They did not understand. Their vision was even more limited than yours._

"Your beloveds?" Riker lifted his chin. "You mean the Zinorians?"

 _For centuries, we were their guardians. We provided for them. We used these mountains to shelter them from storms, from predators, from loneliness. Now we are the ones who are lonely. These mountains have become our prison._

Their sentence of solitude weighed heavily on the commander. He could taste the bitterness of their anguish to be left behind with nothing but empty walls and empty streets. "But there were others on this planet when we arrived. Who were they?"

The creature's big black eyes swivelled towards Carmen. _They were searching for this one. The one who is different._

Riker glanced back at the young woman, outrage etched into the lines of his face. "Why? What for?"

 _We cannot explain the motives of evil._

"But were they like me-were they human?"

 _They were not like you. Your heart beats with valor._

"I mean did they look like me?"

 _We look only at the heart._

"And what did their hearts want?"

 _This one. The one who is different._

Riker squared his jaw. He felt as though he were going in circles. "Please," he said, beseeching them through clenched teeth. "Can't you see what they were planning to do with her?"

 _We see things as they were, as they are, and-_

"As they will be, yes, you said that already," the commander snapped. "So tell me then-how will it be?"

 _They are coming. When they do, your friends will be enemies, and your enemies will be friends._

Worf snarled, his impatience boiling over. "Speak plainly!" he bellowed. "Tell us something useful!"

 _We have already warned you..._

"How much time do we have?" Riker tried.

"It's no use," Carmen mumbled from Sheppard's side. "I've already asked."

 _Time is a river that cannot be measured. It brings you closer and closer to the banks of war. Now go...warn your people…_

"But I need answers!" A sharp and desperate edge entered Riker's voice.

 _You will need more than that. You will need to see into their heart._

"Their heart?" Riker repeated. "What do you mean? Do you know how to beat them?"

 _We said go!_ _Protect your beloveds, and leave us to mourn ours..._

A violent din of voices rose above the Jotnara's warning. Sheppard's pulse raced. His arm tightened around Carmen, but to his distress, she faded from view. A flurry of images danced across his mind instead. He saw the streets of Zinor engulfed in chaos. He saw families fleeing and heard the wails of their children. He saw Borg appear in their midst, their faces void of color or emotion. Never flinching, they assimilated the entire city with ruthless ease.

Then Sheppard found himself back in the chamber. A hauntingly beautiful song rose in the darkness. Turning around, he saw a woman crouched against the wall. She cradled a small boy in her arms. More women and children huddled nearby. Some tried to follow the words of the song, seeking solace in its familiarity. Tears stained every cheek, and fear filled every eye. Sheppard's heart swelled with pity.

The singing stopped abruptly. The woman gasped and clutched at her son. A drone stepped out of the shadows, advancing towards the last of the Zinorians. "Please," the woman begged. "Take anything, but do not take our children."

"You will be assimilated," the drone replied. "Resistance is futile."

The little boy whimpered, burying his face in his mother's skirt. As she looked down at him, her lips pursed together with a shaky attempt at bravery. "No," she declared, her gaze returning to the Borg. "The Jotnara will protect us."

A deafening rumble filled the chamber then, shaking pebbles loose at Sheppard's feet. All around, the walls rippled and billowed. "Watch out!" he cried in vain as the drone advanced towards the hapless woman and her boy.

With a crack loud as thunder, a creature tore away from the rock and bore down on the drone like a landslide. The Borg died quickly and silently, crushed to death without a single cry of pain. The other women and children pressed themselves against the walls, hope springing to life behind their eyes.

But their hope was short-lived. For another Borg soon replaced the fallen one. And then another. And another, until a small army of drones had amassed within the chamber. The Jotnara waged war on them in a clash of stone against machine, mountain against man. The Borg, however, fought back with cruel efficiency. They fired beams of energy upon the Jotnara, leaving piles of rubble in their wake. As each ancient being crumbled to dust, the mountain moaned with the sound of a mournful wind.

One by one, each Zinorian mother and child fell prey to the Borg. Sheppard's heart ached to see the suffering on their faces as they succumbed to the Collective, their final moments filled with agony and fear. And then they were gone. Each drone vanished into thin air, taking their newly assimilated victims with them. The mountain gave one final shudder as the walls returned to rock. Sheppard felt consumed by the sudden emptiness. He looked around the chamber for any survivors, but there was nothing left. Nothing, that is, save for dust and shadows.

The vision disappeared. Sheppard once again felt Carmen beneath his arm. They were still in the Chamber of Hearts, but the Jotnara had gone.

"What was that?" Bettencourt asked, timidly breaking the silence.

"The fate of the Zinorians," Carmen answered. Her voice rasped as though she had just woken from a deep sleep. In the dim light of the cavern, she appeared to Sheppard like a wise and wounded soul all of a sudden.

"But not our fate," he reminded her, smiling gently. "Not yet."

Riker cleared his throat, drawing the attention of his team. "You're right about that, ensign. Now let's get back to the Enterprise. We have work to do."


	45. A Carefully Drawn Line

**A/N: Zara08-Aww, thank you so much for the encouragement :-). I will remember your words come next tournament!**

 **WIWJ-Hahaha I will do my best! I plan to do a lot more with this storyline. :-) And with Riker and Troi haha**

 **Angel897, Ronald40, MrsHaloona-You guys are so awesome. I just love reading your reviews! :-)**

* * *

"A second time? You went and got yourself attacked by those things a second time?" Back in sickbay, Crusher labored over the fresh gashes on Carmen's arm. The clean air and the warmly-lit walls, a pleasant shade of white, were a welcome change to the young woman. No harsh red desert light, no dust, no sand. She looked down at the carpeted floor with a smile as though the doctor had just complimented her.

"It was just so much fun the first time," she quipped. "Even the commander couldn't pass it up." Across the room, Riker sat on the edge of his biobed. A nurse attended him, her auburn-colored hair wrapped tightly in a bun. Troi stood beside the bed with her arms halfway folded as she relayed their misadventures.

"Yes, well, I shouldn't be surprised by now to see a Riker in here. But I _am_ surprised to see a Sheppard." The doctor tilted her head towards the neighboring biobed, where Sheppard fumbled for a smile. "You never get into trouble!"

"At least he didn't get bitten," Carmen pointed out.

"True. Hey, has Nurse Ogawa cleared you yet?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sheppard replied.

Crusher nodded. "Then you're free to go."

"Oh, I was um...is it alright if I wait?"

Glancing between the two junior officers, Crusher's lips pursed together into a smile. "For Carmen? Ah. I'll be finished with her in just a minute. Promise."

Carmen's own smile faded. She sat diligently for the rest of Crusher's exam, then mumbled a thank-you and goodbye as the doctor turned her sights on Riker next. The comfort she had formerly found in the young man's presence eluded her now, for they had left things in a wounded place. And without the direness of the desert pressing in around them, it seemed awkward to openly speak of such intimate things. It was back to their old lives, their separate lives, aboard the Enterprise. In her mind, Carmen likened them to the wind and crumbling ruins, alone in their own ways but haunting the same planet.

Sheppard pushed off his bed and took a seat at the foot of Carmen's. Her stomach tied into knots as she waited for him to speak. "So uh…I'm...I'm not good at this," he admitted softly.

"Me either," she said, running a hand over her freshly healed arm. He sent her a small, commiserating smile. It untied some of the knots in her stomach.

"Hey, remember that ball game in San Francisco?"

"Of course I do."

He drew in a deep breath. "Well when I found you in the stands...I had been there for awhile. Since before that night, I mean. I think I had been sitting on the sidelines pretty much since my mom passed away."

Carmen nodded, saying nothing. But she reached for his hand as it rested on the bed beside him and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

"That's when I stopped fighting for things, you see. If I gave things up, if I let them go, then I didn't really lose them. That's what I told myself, anyways. I gave up baseball, I gave up Kerry…" He heaved out a sigh. "I don't want to lose you, too, Carmen."

She bit down on her lip. "I don't want to lose you, either," she whispered.

"I know." Sheppard squeezed her hand in return and smiled reassuringly. "I know that you're just as tired of losing things. I know that it's asking a lot, to trust again. To _be_ trusted again."

His astuteness cut her deeply. How many times had she told one of Leyton's child soldiers that everything would be okay? That they'd make it through the night? After awhile, she learned to resent their trust in her, to despise the faith that filled their naive eyes. For it was the hardest thing of all to lose.

"And...and I wanted you to know that I'm sorry," he continued.

"Sorry?" She blinked. "For what?"

"When you said that you'd always be my friend, I told you it doesn't work that way." His smile turned into a grimace. "I'm sorry. I was speaking about the way things worked before. But this isn't like before. We can _make_ it work. Because I'm willing to fight for this."

"Me, too," she said, lacing her fingers through his. At the touch, a warm sense of sincerity seeped into her mind. Carmen realized then that even without the empathic echoes of the planet, she could still read him with comforting ease. Her gaze drifted up to his chestnut locks, and she recalled the way they furled and unfurled in the desert wind. It made a corner of her heart ache. For though they had smoothed the rocky ground beneath them, they still stood on opposite sides of a carefully drawn line.

"Sheppard! Riker!" Excited shouts filled the entrance of sickbay. Carmen slipped her hand out of Sheppard's. Three familiar faces rushed eagerly towards them.

"You're alive!" Haykov cried, barrelling into Sheppard. Kerry likewise grabbed Carmen up in a hug. She stiffened, arms rigidly at her side.

"Oh! Hello again, Kerry," she said. A touch of color rose to her cheeks at the unsolicited and enthusiastic display of affection. Across the room, Troi nudged Riker, drawing his attention to the spectacle.

"So what happened? How did you find Ensign Riker?" Orin asked.

"Well it's a long story," Sheppard replied. "And we still have to debrief Captain Picard, once the commander is up and about."

"Come _on_ ," Kerry whined. "That leaves plenty of time! Come to Ten Forward with us. We'll grab some spaghetti or sloppy joes or even those Klingon worm things. Just come! Please? Pretty please?"

Carmen hesitated, letting Kerry's pleas linger in the air. She cast an imploring glance in Troi's direction. _Go on_ , the counselor urged. _We'll be here._

"What do you think?" Sheppard asked, and her attention returned to the young man.

"I suppose it would be alright." Carmen rubbed her hands together. "I'm hungry, anyways. Gagh for everybody!"

Haykov groaned. "Dangit, Kerry! Why'd you have to suggest that?"

"I'm just kidding," Carmen laughed. "Sloppy joes sound great, too."

* * *

Crusher studied a series of fluctuating numbers on the screen beside Riker's biobed. "You're responding well to the antidote. Another few hours, and you'll be good as new."

But Riker wasn't paying attention. His eyes followed Carmen as she left sick bay with the other junior officers. Their excited chatter gradually faded from earshot. "Where do you suppose they're going?"

Crusher smiled at the crestfallen commander. Something shrewd but sympathetic softened her gaze. "To catch up. Looks like Carmen made some friends after all."

Troi prodded him with her elbow. "Weren't you the one who said she should branch out in the first place?"

"Yeah, but...I didn't expect her to actually _listen_ to me."

The two women shared a laugh at his expense. "Well," Crusher said. "I think you'll live. As far as the poison is concerned, at least. I'll be back in an hour for the final dose." She nodded to the nurse, and together they withdrew from the commander's company. Troi stayed behind. She sat on the edge of the bed and patted his knee.

"She's not a child, you know."

"I know, I know," he sighed. "That's the problem."

Troi turned her face up, trying to read his despondency. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she just came to us. I guess...I was just hoping we'd have more time."

" _Imzadi_..." A gentle laugh fell from Troi's lips. "It's not like we're losing her. Not yet. And anyways-" She rose up to kiss the side of his cheek. "What's wrong with having a little more time to ourselves?"

A grin spread across Riker's face. He turned towards her, cupping her chin in one hand. "You know...I like the way you think."

"Mmm..." She closed her eyes as he closed the distance between their lips. The first kiss was gentle, soothing. But the second one stoked something much more fiery and passionate. Troi's fingers ran up the commander's chest until they gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"Oh!" A set of surprised footsteps halted in front of them. They broke away from each other to find Carmen standing in their midst. "This is bound to keep happening, isn't it?" she groaned. Though her tone was that of a complaint, a smile shone from her eyes.

"Probably," Riker answered. "Now did you need something? Or can we continue?"

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Yes, I needed something. Well, to ask you something, actually."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"I uh...I was just wondering..." Her bravado wilted. She dug her toe into the ground, struggling to finish her sentence. "I was thinking that maybe later, we could work on that piece from St. Louis Blues?"

Riker smiled. "How about right after the debriefing?"

"Yeah, sure! I'll bring my trombone."

"And I'll bring dessert," Troi offered.

Carmen beamed, delighted and relieved. "Sounds like a plan. See you later, Will. Deanna." She nodded at them each, then turned on her heel and trotted out of sickbay, her raven-dark braid bouncing behind her.

"Will..." the commander repeated. He huffed out a laugh, pleasantly surprised.

Troi reached up and turned Riker's face towards her. "See? We haven't lost her yet. Now...where were we..."

* * *

 **One more chapter! And it's an important one! Also, I'll let you know what to expect for the next episode :-). Stay tuned!**


	46. Parallels

The buzz of private conversations drifted to Riker's ear as he stepped into the conference lounge. Picard, Crusher and Troi waited for him at the head of a long table. Carmen sat beside the counselor, accompanied by Ensign Sheppard. Down at the other end, Laforge had fallen into an amicable discourse with Worf and Bettencourt.

"Feeling better, Number One?" Picard's voice drew Riker's eyes back to the head of the table.

"Yes, sir. Much better." He smiled, stepping into the empty seat across from Troi. The drawl of conversation quieted, replaced by an expectant hush.

"That is a great relief," Picard said. "Indeed, it is great relief to find you _all_ safe and sound." His gaze lingered a moment on Carmen, then swept over the rest of the gathered crewmembers. "I know that this mission was more...challenging...than we anticipated. By all accounts, that planet should have been deserted. Now Mister Sheppard, I understand that you scouted out these so-called shadow people and their camp?"

"I did, sir."

"What were you able to ascertain about them?"

"Not much, sir." Sheppard swallowed, growing increasingly uncomfortable under the weight of everyone's attention. "They wore something over their heads at all times, some kind of mask. And I could never get close enough to hear a conversation."

"Could you at least determine their race?"

"Well, sir…" Sheppard hesitated. "After locating their shuttle, I assumed they were Romulan."

"Our ion scans indicate that there was indeed a Romulan vessel on the surface," Worf confirmed.

But Picard's gaze had not moved from the young man. "You seem ambivalent on the matter, Mister Sheppard," he noted.

"It's just that...after our confrontation with them, I no longer believe we are dealing with Romulans."

"He's right, sir." From Sheppard's side, Carmen pitched in. "Their names were not Romulan. Their accents were not Romulan. And have you ever known a Romulan to cover his face?"

A ruminative murmur chased her last remark. Picard drew himself close to the table with a troubled sigh. "Miss Riker...Will has informed me that you believe it was your former commander down there."

Carmen nodded. "Yes, sir. I don't know who sent him, or why. But I'd recognize Wharton anywhere."

Sheppard jumped to her defense. "And I heard one of them call Wharton by name," he added.

Laforge cleared his throat, and all around the table, faces turned curiously towards him. "Actually...I might have an explanation for that."

"What do you mean?" Carmen asked, narrowing her eyes at the lieutenant.

"The samples you guys brought back from the surface-they were negative for dilithium crystals. But I found something else. Another kind of crystal."

"We know that already." Carmen sighed with a touch of impatience. "The Jotnara said it enhanced their telepathic abilities."

"It must be all over that planet," Laforge continued. "Creating an echo chamber for anyone with those kind of gifts. Like you and Counselor Troi, for example."

"Yes," Carmen conceded. "It worked on me, too."

"Even Commander Riker reported feeling its effects. He was able to see things telepathically, despite being full-blooded human."

Picard tilted his head, intrigued. "This crystal...it is strong enough to not only enhance telepathy, but bestow it as well?"

"I'm not sure about that. Maybe given enough time…" Laforge shrugged. "But in the commander's case, his connection with Counselor Troi is what bestowed those abilities."

"I see," Picard said slowly. His gaze shifted, but not towards his first officer. Instead, his eyes landed on the young Ensign Sheppard.

"But-" Sheppard fidgeted beneath the captain's stare, which was somehow gentle and piercing at the same time. "What does this have to do with me? With Wharton?"

Laforge set his hands down on the table's smooth, polished surface. "When did you hear one of them say Wharton's name?"

"When they ambushed us, just before we ran into the rescue team."

"So you and Carmen had already spent a considerable time on the planet's surface. By then, she was deep under the poison's influence."

"But _I_ wasn't," Sheppard argued.

"No. You were under _her_ influence." Laforge flashed the young woman an apologetic smile. "The counselor told us about how you inadvertently project things, Carmen."

"To other empaths, yes," she snapped. "But Sheppard isn't an empath. How could he have seen or heard something because of me-"

"Commander Riker isn't an empath, either," Laforge pointed out. "But by sharing a special connection with one…" He trailed off, letting his implications slowly and silently sink in. Carmen winced, feeling as though a glaring spotlight had been trained upon her and Sheppard. She didn't dare lift her eyes from the table.

"So...after all this time...we still don't know the identity of these shadow people?" Worf's disappointed voice rumbled from the far end, mercifully drawing the spotlight away from the junior officers.

Picard sighed deeply. "I'm afraid that all evidence points to the Romulan Empire."

Leaning back in his chair, Riker ran an absent-minded hand across his beard. A recurring suspicion tugged at his mind, an uneasy feeling that the captain knew more than he was letting on. "All evidence?" he repeated. "You mean a couple of ion scans?"

"More than that, unfortunately." Picard's lips pursed together. He met Crusher's eyes, and she nodded back.

"What?" Troi prompted. Her forehead wrinkled with concern. "You are...hiding something."

Picard grunted, drumming his fingers along the table. "It is time you heard. All of you."

A tension settled over the silence as Picard swivelled his chair to the side and then rose, tugging at the hem of his uniform. "Admiral Leyton has been following the Empire's activity closely since we left Alidar in his custody."

"Alidar?" Bettencourt echoed. Sheppard glanced over at Carmen, likewise confused. The name sounded vaguely familiar.

"He was our Romulan guest, remember?" Laforge said. "The one we picked up in Federation territory. Said the Empire was building a secret base in the Neutral Zone, preparing for war."

"I thought it was determined that there was no truth behind Alidar's claims," Riker scoffed.

Picard steepled his hands together at his waist. "There was no truth behind the secret base. Most likely, his government planted that information to test his loyalty to the Empire. But Leyton believes they might still be preparing for war."

Worf growled, bristling at the notion. "Has there been any evidence of this?"

"Not according to public knowledge." Picard stared at him pointedly.

"Why not?" Riker demanded. "Why weren't we made aware of this before the mission?"

"I asked Leyton the same thing. He insisted on discretion for the time being." Picard came back around the table, but instead of taking a seat, he leaned his palms against the glossy surface and blew out another sigh. "It was the admiral who advocated this mission in the first place. Starfleet is in dire need of additional dilithium deposits, as you all know. But it wasn't until after Miss Riker went missing that Leyton divulged the rest of his motives."

"You mean-" Troi laid a protective hand over Carmen's arm. "He _knew_ there might be Romulans down there? And he let us send our officers anyways?"

"That is why he recommended Miss Riker for the mission. At the time, I thought he was merely interested in her professional progress. Now, I realize that it was because of her experience with Romulans."

Riker seethed from his chair. "Her 'professional progress?' Why would Leyton show interest in the career of an ensign?"

Carmen finally lifted her eyes. She found Picard staring back at her with a knowing glint. _You didn't tell him, did you?_ his face read. She fidgeted in her seat, knowing that the captain was waiting for her to explain.

"Back in San Francisco, he...uh...he offered me a place on his team," she confessed. "I told him I only wanted to return to the Enterprise, of course. But he left the offer open." She thought back to Leyton's unexpected kindness, and felt a tinge of betrayal.

Picard stood up straight again, letting his arms fall to his sides. "At any rate, I had hoped it was mere paranoia; that these shadow people were a figment of the poison's imagination. But it appears that there might be some truth to Alidar's warnings after all."

"What will we do?" Carmen asked, an unwonted tremble in her voice. "We cannot risk war with the Romulans. Not with the Borg on the horizon."

" _What will we do?_ " Picard's brows drew together sternly. "We will carry on. And we will boldly go, not fearfully. For peace is still within our reach."

* * *

 ** _Aboard the U.S.S. Artemyev_**

Wharton waited inside the transporter room. Behind his back, his hands wrung together nervously. "He won't be happy," he mumbled.

At his side, an officer with dusty brown hair and a layer of stubble across his jawline chuckled. "Come on," he urged. "It wasn't a total bust."

"We lost two members of our team, Talbot!"

"What, you've never lost anyone before? That happens a lot out here. Especially in our line of work."

" _This_ isn't our line of work. And yes, I've lost someone."

Talbot eyed his comrade suspiciously. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

But Wharton hung his head in reticent silence. Before Talbot could press him further, an accented voice piped up from behind them. "Ready to energize, gentleman. If you're done bickering, that is."

"Just go ahead and energize, Laird," Wharton muttered. After a few moments, a shimmering streak of light materialized on the transporter pad. Both men straightened as the silhouette of a man appeared within the streak, wearing the long and traditional garb of an admiral.

"Admiral Leyton!" Talbot simpered once the transport had completed. "Welcome aboard the Artemyev!"

"Shut up, Talbot," he snapped, stepping down. "Now where are you keeping her?"

Talbot's smile crumbled to dust. He glanced over his shoulder at Laird. "We uh, we don't have her anymore, sir."

"What?!" Fury gripped the features of Leyton's face. "What do you mean? And where are the others? Captain Callahan?"

Wharton cleared his throat, struggling with the answer. "They didn't make it, sir."

The news put a damper on Leyton's anger. He stepped back, straightening the lapels of his garb. "I need a drink. Some Deka tea, perhaps. And then you can fill me on the rest of your failures."

* * *

The four men strode down the tan and white halls, Leyton in the lead. He sipped Deka tea from a glass with a small, curved handle as he listened to Talbot's story. "Wait-dog creatures?" he interrupted. "You mean you couldn't even handle a couple of mutts?"

Talbot squirmed beneath his admiral's disappointment."They weren't ordinary dogs, sir. There was something in their bite. Made Callahan go crazy."

"We wanted to leave, to get him help," Laird insisted. "But he made us stay. Said to keep looking for the girl."

Leyton grunted approvingly. "He put the mission first. Truly an exemplary captain."

"And now he's a _dead_ captain," Wharton retorted. "What are we going to say to his brother? How are we going to explain this?"

Leyton smirked, unperturbed. "Leave those details to me. Where is the body, anyways?"

"We have it, sir," Talbot assured. "What was left of it, at least. And Becker's. We didn't leave any traces behind."

"Becker? What happened to _him?_ "

The three men rounded a corner, stepping into a large and mostly barren chamber. Lights hummed to life overhead, revealing an empty cot against the far wall.

Laird heaved out a sigh. "The girl, that's what happened. She put up a hell of a fight in that cavern."

"She killed him?" Leyton cocked his eyebrows in surprise.

"He didn't die til the next morning. We tried to help him, but...his injuries were too extensive."

A new voice cut through their exchange, cynicism bleeding into every word. "I warned you about her, didn't I? I warned you how they taught their children to kill. How they turned them into animals."

"Silence!" Talbot barked. But laughter drifted up from a shadowy corner of the brig in reply.

"We are all animals, I suppose. Fighting for survival. Some convince themselves they are fighting for more than that. Some convince themselves they have a _reason_ to live. But take away that reason, and they become the worst animal of all." He laughed again, the sound tinged with madness.

"I said shut up!" Talbot charged at the electrostatic wall, which hummed a warning at his approach. "Or I'll turn this off and _make_ you shut up."

"You can do whatever you'd like; it would not be worse than what she has already done. She took away my reason. She took away my SON." His final word came out as a snarl. He climbed to his feet, and the harsh light of the brig flooded his face. Scars ran across his sickly, yellowed skin. His eyebrows, sharp as two blades, angled towards his jet black hair. Leyton recoiled slightly from the rage that smoldered behind his glare.

"His eyes weren't even closed all the way, as if the life had left him too quickly. It was her fault, she said. Her fault that I lost everything." He lifted a finger towards the admiral. "And you promised to deliver her to me. So where is she?"

Leyton held up his hands defensively. "There will be more opportunities, Alidar. But we cannot risk attention at the moment-"

"You are risking a lot more than that. You are risking everything. Once the Borg arrive, your Federation is doomed. I've seen it all before, in my universe." A chilling, mirthless smile crept across the Romulan's face. "I am your only hope for survival."

"Then tell us how to make it! Tell us how to make the weapon!" Desperation seeped into the cracks of Leyton's composure. "Or we'll send you back through that wormhole!"

"Not without the girl!" Alidar bellowed back. "She cannot be allowed a future-not while my son was denied his. Now bring her to me, or fight the Borg on your own."

 **The End**

* * *

 **Phew! So that concludes Dust and Shadows. But I have more in store! I'll post a chapter on this story when I've got the first chapter of the new story out. I aim to get it up within the next week.**

 **Up next, the Enterprise answers a distress call from a small scientific team. One of their own has been kidnapped while conducting research on a planet newly inducted to the Federation. But when members of the Enterprise beam down to aid in the search, they find more than they bargained for.**

 **I've been busy fleshing things out, but still have room for any suggestions/ideas you might want to throw at me. Is there a character you'd like to see more of? Less of? You have all been so kind with your reviews, and I know I say this a lot but I mean it every time-thank you SO MUCH for your interest! You keep me going. I look forward to any final thoughts you might have!**


	47. Next

**Author's Note:**

 **Ok so switching gears here...**

 **First off, I LOVED all of your reviews! And I definitely heard your wishes for what's next. Because of the feedback, an idea crossed my mind. An idea for a story that will take place entirely in Carmen's universe and be from the point of view of the Riker there. It won't be very long, about ten chapters in all. And each chapter will be years apart, kind of like glimpses into her father's life, relationship with Deanna, and what exactly happened on the day of his death. I've been writing like crazy, so the first chapter will be up soon! Tonight or tomorrow! It will be called "Broken Pieces," so keep an eye out :-). What do you think?**

 **Also, I am still writing for the next episode of the current storyline; that hasn't gone by the wayside or anything.**

 **Thanks so much again for all the reads/reviews! I don't deserve you guys haha.**


	48. One More Thing

**Author's Note:**

 **Okay, last update for this story. I just published the first chapter for the next episode in this storyline. That one is titled, "Where the Heart Is." I hope you guys will follow along, and continue to enjoy Carmen's adventures! :-)**

 **I've also already published the first chapter for "Broken Pieces," which is the one that takes place entirely in the past and in Carmen's universe (and thus not changing the storyline, but it's just a glimpse into the Riker family and Carmen's childhood aboard the Enterprise, for those interested).**

 **Thanks again to everyone reading along! See you on the Final Frontier :-)**


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